


Warden and King

by HeroMaggie



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: F/M, First Time, Heavy Petting, Hugs, Hurt/Comfort, Kissing, Romance, Sexual Content, Slow Build
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-07-03
Updated: 2014-10-31
Packaged: 2018-02-07 05:55:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 34
Words: 41,346
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1887435
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HeroMaggie/pseuds/HeroMaggie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Eaven Tabris survives insurmountable odds to become the Hero of Ferelden. This is her and Alistair's story, how their relationship started, the pitfalls they encountered, and how they overcame them. Inspired by my Anders needs Hug series, this is a story set in the DA universe centering around the emotional need for comfort, friendship and love.</p><p>For Delazeur. You twist them into terrible knots of angst and pain and I come along to soothe out the worst of it. I hope you enjoy this!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [delazeur](https://archiveofourown.org/users/delazeur/gifts).
  * Inspired by [The Griffon and the Hawk](https://archiveofourown.org/works/1774873) by [HeroMaggie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/HeroMaggie/pseuds/HeroMaggie). 



> Eavan is pronounced "Eve-een"
> 
> All characters and settings belong to Bioware. Canon has been deviated from to better portray the story.
> 
> Hugs were handed out to everybody.

The human man loomed over her, his face leering and voice grating. “What are you going to do, knife-ear? If you were smart, you'd take the money and go. Leave your little friend here. She'll go home in the morning, a little worse for wear, and you can go start a new life someplace far away. Think carefully, bitch. I'm the Arl's son. You kill me and they won't just hang you. Oh no, they'll make you pay.”

Eavan's hand never wavered, her sword tip didn't drop, she refused to cower. “You disgust me, you coward. I'll have your head and go to my grave satisfied that you'll never harm another woman again.” She saw the sword swing, the edge bite deep into the man's neck, and then she woke up.

Breathing heavy, sweat dotting her brow, Eavan sat up and pushed off her blanket. Her eyes took in the small camp, the dwindling fire, and the silhouette of the man sitting across from her. He shifted in the dim light, his eyes meeting hers across the glowing coals. “Nightmare?” his voice reached out to her to anchor her in the now.

“You could say that. Just a re-living. I'll be fine. It'll pass. It has to. I can't see it every night.” Eavan started folding her blanket, her eyes steadfastly on her hands now. “Right?”

“Taking a life is a hard thing to deal with, Eavan. Learning to live with it is something you'll have to do. There will be more lives lost before the Blight is over.”

She exhaled, her eyes meeting his again. “Why did you want me? Of all the people in Denerim, why me? I'm nothing more than a knife-ear, a dreg, a murderer.” She tucked her knees to her chest, wrapped her arms around them. “I can swing a sword and dagger, sure, but that was the first time I'd ever really killed anybody.”

“Why did you do it? Why not simply let them have their way and go home? Or take the money?”

Her hands clenched into fists, “Because they needed killing. Because my cousin lay broken on the floor. Because there are things you don't do – not even if you are a high and mighty shem.” Her eyes hardened. “Because I didn't want Shianni to live with it. Or Soris. He deserved to go home and get married. And because they killed Nelaros. He came for me, Duncan. He barely knew me, but he came to get me and he died. Those men, they took him from me. They took away my future. I'd burn the entire estate down around their ears if I could.” She looked away again, fought with the anger and grief that spiraled through her. She found the ring on her finger, made from hammered gold, and rubbed it. “I should be married now. An adult in the Alienage. Now I will always be a child. Always be an outsider.”

Duncan watched her come to terms with her new reality, watched as the pain settled into her. She sniffled for a moment and then straightened to look at him again. Her back stiffened and resolve filtered into her gaze. “That's why I chose you, Eavan. Your strength, your willingness to step forward and do what's right, even when it means making a hard choice. You had the opportunity to leave your cousins and strike out on your own. But you turned it down because it would have been the wrong choice. The Wardens, we need people like you, Eavan. People with integrity, with personal fortitude, with that strength of will. The Blight will not stop itself. It will take men and women like you to stop it.” He stood, went to her and helped her up. “Stop seeing yourself as a child, as an elf. You're a Warden now, Eavan.”

She looked up into his face, into eyes that saw her as exactly that. He didn't linger on her tapered ears or her large blue eyes. He didn't note her smaller frame or her more narrow features. He looked at her and saw a Warden. It made her straighten and made her hold her head up. “I'm a Warden.”

He nodded, a pleased look on his face. “Now, if you're awake, we should leave. We have a while to go still before we reach Ostagar.”

Her lips twitched into a small smile. “Yes Sir, Duncan. Ostagar and the blighted dark spawn. I'll just picture Vaughan's piggish shem face when they come running at me.”

That made Duncan laugh and smack her back with a firm slap. “That's the spirit. Let's get going.”

***

Ostagar was a whirl of men training, elves running errands, mages doing...mage things...and Chantry leaders. Eavan felt swallowed up in the general din of pre-battle excitement. She had met the King and that...had not gone as well as it could have. She had been so overwhelmed with seeing Ostagar, with exhaustion, and with the King's enthusiasm that she had just spit out her tale in as crude and rude a manner as possible. If the ground could have opened up and swallowed her, well, she figured she was due. She had half expected Duncan to smack her. Instead, he had just sighed and apologized for her. And the King...the King had been beside himself after hearing about the near rape. It had been...overwhelming.

She was now wandering the camp looking for another Warden. Somebody named Alistair. She hadn't been given a description when she had asked. Duncan had gotten a look on his face and said “Oh, you'll know him when you see him.” That didn't really help her any. The camp was full of human men. All tall and wearing armor. She hunched in on herself a bit and tried to ignore the fact that she was an elf in ill-fitting gear and carrying two daggers. That she was so small compared to them. Female and alone with no Elder to speak for her.

She finally broke down and asked a guard for help. She had been...surprised...when he not only pointed out the directions but did so in a friendly manner. She had eyed him with great suspicion. In Eavan's experience, a nice human male meant a male who probably wanted something. Something she was unwilling to give. But the guard had cheerfully given her directions and then went back to his work, not even batting an eyelash at her elven appearance. It had left her...dazed.

Following the directions had led her opposite Duncan's campfire and up a long ramp. She had eyed a table set in the distance labeled the “war table” and filed that away for later pondering. Arguing voices drew her up another short ramp to a small open area. Two men stood up there, one in a robe that had her thinking “magic flinger” and the other in splint mail. She squinted at the one in the armor, mentally compared notes to what the guard had said, and labeled him “Alistair.”

The argument was short, sweet, and humorous. At least to Eavan. If that was Alistair, then the Wardens must allow for snarking because he snarked better than Shianni ever did. The mage stomped off, an angry badger of a man in a dress, an image that had Eavan snorting into her hand. The sound of the armored man talking to her made her squeak in surprise.

“It is absolutely amazing how willing people are to work with each other during a blight. Isn't it?”

His eyes danced with amusement and Eavan found herself answering his smile with a wary one of her own. “I was just thinking the same thing.”

“We could all hold hands and sing songs together. That would put the dark spawn off for sure.” His voice teased at her and she covered her mouth with her hand, her smile blossoming. “But wait...do I know you. I don't know you. Do I? You aren't another mage are you?” His face went from good humor to confusion in the blink of an eye. She smothered another smile.

“And if I was? Would that be a problem?”

“Well...I just like to know my chances of being turned into a toad, that’s all.” That made him grin again, his mood shifting back to teasing.

“Well, you're in luck. I'm no mage. I am looking for a Grey Warden, though? An Alistair?”

“That's me!” He perked up and looked at her again, his eyes slipping down her body. She flushed under his close gaze, fighting to not fidget. _He’s tall, Maker he’s so tall. And big. And broad._ She took a half step back, tensing slightly under his gaze, but he broke out into another smile, this one warm and welcoming. “You're a little thing, aren't you? I am Alistair. Who might you be? Oh...wait...wait! Are you the newest Warden recruit?”

“Er...” Eavan couldn't help but blink at his enthusiasm. “I'm Eavan.”

“That's the name! I swear, if I don't write stuff down I forget. So you're an elf?” He looked at her with earnest friendliness. “And a woman?”

“Er...” Eavan wasn't sure how to handle this particular human male. He seemed all good will and nervous energy, despite his weapons and his height and his so very broad chest. Taking a chance that she had read him right, she tugged her helmet off her head and massaged her ears. “Yes to both?”

“Oh...” He looked taken aback for a moment and Eavan wondered if perhaps he found her unattractive or strange looking. Some humans thought elves were nearly alien looking; others thought them the pinnacle of delicate beauty. “Well then. I...um...” She watched as a tide of red slid up his neck to sting his face. “You know...we don't have many women in the Wardens.”

“Do you want there to be a bunch of women Wardens?” Eavan fidgeted at his look. _Oh Dear Maker, he's got pretty eyes_. Eavan wondered if her mother was going to come back from the grave to haunt her for thinking a shem had pretty eyes. Those pretty eyes were widening in alarm at her question, a fact that had her worried she had somehow insulted him.

“Um...ah...I was just..” he fumbled for a moment. “I'm not a lech! I swear! Please don't look at me like that...” He swallowed and offered her a tentative smile.

The tentative smile did it. It put her at ease with the poor man. He might be big, he might be a shem, but he seemed a sincere man. And by the Maker, Eavan needed a friend. So she answered his questions, asked him her own, and then suggested they go find the other recruits.

 

***

Alistair's main goal in life was to not be noticed. If he couldn't hide, he would try to deflect with humor. So when the Grand Cleric had sent him to fetch a mage he had tried humor and hoped to all that was holy in the world that the mage forgot him. Or at the very least, that the mage didn't turn him into a toad.

He had been congratulating himself on not becoming an amphibian when he saw her. _She has kind eyes,_ he had thought. Kind eyes and a pretty smile. And she was tiny. Maker, so little she barely came up to the top of his chest. Petite and dainty and so pretty his tongue had tried to strangle him. When he heard himself asking if she was an elf and a woman he had pretty much decided death was the only suitable option for him. And he was pretty sure the she would be the one to kill him.

But she had pulled off her helmet and Andraste's flaming shoes, she was beautiful. All that red hair, he had thought in a daze. And her big blue eyes. He was sure he was gawking, but the Chantry hadn't covered how to speak to your newest comrade who also happened to be an attractive woman. Elf. Person. He was going to be struck by lightning.

By the time his brain had caught up with his mouth, she was smiling shyly at him and suggesting they go find the other recruits. He could only say a prayer of thanksgiving that he hadn't screwed up his first impression. Still, he was a bit worried. She was _very tiny_. And they were going to fight darkspawn. And maybe, just maybe, he should stay near her just in case.

Not that he was a lech or anything.


	2. Chapter 2

Alistair was eyeing Eavan with respect and a little bit of fear. She had taken down three darkspawn by herself and the last one had been decapitated. The other two recruits, a Ser Jory and Daveth, were also giving Eavan a closer look. Ser Jory hadn't been particularly confident in her abilities when they had left camp. Daveth had been staring fixedly at her hindquarters and making jokes.

He had been relieved when Eavan had ignored both Jory and Daveth. He had been a tiny bit worried at the look she had shot at Daveth, and he had made a mental note to ask her about that later, but she hadn't done anything but glare at him and stalk off. Come to think of it, she hadn't been overly warm with Jory either. It had been a sort of quiet respect. But her shoulders had hunched a bit. That was another thing he should ask her about.

Darkspawn killing aside, and they had killed more than their fair share of the monsters since heading into the wilds, their new goal was to find these old Warden contracts and bring them back. Then get back and get the Joining underway. Thoughts of the Joining had his eyes sliding over to Eavan again, only this time with worry clouding them.

She was so little. Maybe not as dainty as he had thought. She had taken down those darkspawn and had wrangled that locked chest open. But she was also tenderhearted and sweet. She had picked herbs for a sick mabari. A sick dog! And she had carefully gathered up the lockbox left by a dead missionary. Daveth had suggested they ransack the lockbox, but she had simply put it in her pack and given him a look.

So Alistair watched her and worried. He didn't want to play favorites. He knew he shouldn't see her as anything but a new recruit, but...he...couldn't. He _liked_ her and she _listened_ to him and she had even said, and his head spun just a bit at this, that she was happy he was there. He offered up a prayer to the Maker as they walked that she would survive the joining. If somebody had to be taken, maybe it could be Jory? That man whined about everything.

***

Hours later, tired, hungry and with a blister forming on his big toe, Alistair limped back into the camp. He wasn't sure what had happened back there with the strange woman and her mother, and he had been more than a little grateful that Eavan had taken point. He was sure he should have taken point, should have spoken up, but he honestly thought it best that she do it. Maker knew, Jory and Daveth hadn't been up to the challenge. Eavan walked next to him, a slight bounce in her step. She grinned up at him.

“That was more fun that I had been expecting.”

“What? The darkspawn? The witch? The walk back?”

Eavan laughed at his disgruntled tone. “All of it. Nature. The sky. The freedom.”

Alistair stopped for a moment to tug on his boot, his eyes on her as he fumbled with the ties. “Seriously?”

“Yes, seriously. Oh! Stop, you're tangling the...wait...Alistair.” She brushed his fingers out of the way and straightened the laces of his boots. “Look at this. No wonder you're limping.” Her voice nagged at him as she knelt down to work at the laces. “How did this happen?”

“What? Oh. One my laces broke and we were stopped and I just...rushed.” He scratched his chin and gave her a sheepish smile. “I think I have a blister.”

Eavan shook her head. “You're just like my cousin, Soris. Come on, if we get a chance I'll look at the blister.”

“Oh…you don't have to. No. I can do it.” Alistair fumbled, his face reddening as Jory and Daveth moved past them. Daveth leered a bit at Eavan and she flipped him off, her face growing dark. Daveth laughed and kept going. “Are you going to be ok with him?”

“Who? Daveth? Nothing I haven't dealt with in the past. Now, your foot. I can treat a blister. Don't be such a baby about it. You’re a big strong shem. What’s a tiny little blister, hm?” She stood and brushed her leather's off, pulling her helmet off to scratch at her ear. “I wonder if they have a better fitting helmet. This one crushes my ears.”

“Ouch. And they are too pretty to be crushed...I mean...Ouch.” Alistair offered her a smile. “I wasn't trying to imply...anything...what’s a shem?”

Eavan tilted her head, her eyes boring into his. Whatever she saw made her smile. “Alistair, you are the strangest man, human or elf, I've ever met.”

“Oh, is that good thing? I hear that often, maybe not the elf part, but...is it a good thing?” His smile was hopeful.

Eavan's lips twitched. “Yeah....yeah it's a good thing. Come on, Duncan's waiting for us.”

“But Eavan…what’s a shem?”

***

Her eyes had stared holes into him when Duncan had explained about the joining. They had met his with fear tinged with stubbornness when Daveth had collapsed. They had held his with sadness and shock when Jory had been put down after refusing to drink. And when she had taken the cup, they had gone misty before hardening with resolve.

He had held his breath as she swallowed, watched her throat work as she took in the tainted blood and magic that would, hopefully, transform her into a Warden. When her eyes had rolled back in her head and she had fainted, he had rushed to catch her and ease her to the ground. His eyes had met Duncan's and what he saw in his Commander's face had made him relax. At Duncan's command, he had gathered her up and taken her back to their camp.

She was so light. She wasn't just tiny. Wasn't just delicate and finely formed. She was light as air, even fully armored. He hadn't been prepared for how little she weighed. Seeing her nestled against his chest, her head tucked against his shoulder, he had vowed to watch out for her. They were fellow wardens now, brother and sister in the order, though his mind stubbornly refused to acknowledge her in any sort of sibling manner.

Setting her down had been a difficult task. His arms hadn't wanted to release their burden, but he also hadn't wanted her to wake up and find herself being held by a man she had only just met. Maybe she was married, the thought came. Maybe she had a lover already. Certainly, she was pretty enough. Funny and sweet and patient. Or at least patient with him.

Alistair wasn't sure where these thoughts were coming from. He'd never, seriously, looked at a woman in a romantic sense. Of course, most of the women he talked to were Sisters in the Chantry and that skewed how he viewed them. And he didn't, exactly, get out to meet women. Eavan shifted, a soft whimper escaping her lips, and he moved to take her hand. He supposed it didn't matter, his lack of experience or his awkwardness. She was going to need him.

Her eyes slowly opened and she glanced around the camp with confusion before settling on their joined hands. Her eyes slowly lifted to meet his and for a moment, he worried that he had overstepped a boundary. But her lips slowly curved into a smile and she squeezed his fingers. “Hey,” she whispered.

“Hi. How do you feel?” Alistair winced slightly, knowing the answer and not sure why he thought it a good idea to ask.

“Like I've been stomped on. And my mouth tastes disgusting.” She made a little face, swallowing and frowning.

“Did you dream? I had terrible dreams after my joining.”

“I...don't know. I thought I saw something but...it's all hazy.” She sat up slowly and shook her head. He went to pull back, to release her hand, but she gripped his tighter. “Did...did Daveth die?”

He nodded at her, his eyes watchful. She pursed her lips and looked away, rubbed at her face with her free hand. “I...I wasn't very nice to him And now he's dead.”

“He picked on you. I'm sure you didn't mean it...” Alistair started, stopping when he saw the tears glimmering on her cheeks. He wasn't sure what to do, her tears surprising him.

“I'm sorry. I just...” she hiccuped. “It's been a long week and the joining was a shock and I didn't expect anybody to die...” she rubbed her face with his hand, the one joined with hers, and offered him a watery smile. “I don't usually cry so easily.”

Alistair watched the tears trickle down her cheek and moved to sit next to her, awkwardly wrapping an arm around her shoulder. “I think it's ok to cry. It doesn't make you less of a person.” He inhaled slightly when she leaned into his embrace and returned it with both arms thrown around him, or at least as much around him as she could manage. She squeezed him once and then settled back.

“Thank you, Alistair. I mean it. I...need a friend. And you're very nice...and not just for a human.” She offered him a half-smile and scrubbed her face clean of tears.

He looked down into her big blue eyes and felt the world tilt and spin around him, throwing him off-kilter. Suddenly, Alistair wanted nothing more in the world to make her happy, to make her smile at him again, and it scared him.


	3. Chapter 3

She was racing through the hall of the Arl of Denerim's Keep, sword held in both hands. What she was running from, she couldn’t tell. She just knew that if it caught her, she’d die. So she ran, her breath rough in her throat and her heart trying to beat its way from her chest. She skidded around a corner, pressed herself back against the wall, and tried to disappear.

The shadow edged forward, grew larger and more menacing the closer it came. A clawed foot appeared, roughly scaled and massive. Another step forward and the long, sinuous neck slipped into view. The head swung, burning eyes searching for her. She tried to quiet her breathing, tried to press closer to the rough brick at her back. She must have made a noise because the head twisted fast, so fast, to face her. Flame-red eyes bore into her, tracked her as she slid down the wall to cower before it. It opened its mouth to scream at her and morphed into Shianni’s face. “Why did you let them take me? Why? _WHY_?”

***

Eavan sat up with a gasp, her hands clawing at her blankets. Fear pounded through her, fear and remorse and guilt. It took a moment for her to come to her senses, to really see the camp fire, to smell the earthy loam of dirt and crushed grass. Gradually, her heart rate slowed and the fear drained away on a tide of cold sweat. But the guilt, it remained to eat at her, to twist and knot at her stomach. She leaned to the side and retched, griping at her middle as she brought up burning bile.

Hands smoothed back her hair and reached to hold her as she shuddered. When she was done, gone limp from fatigue, they gently moved her back to rest against something strong, something broad. She tilted her head back and saw Alistair’s face above her. She was resting against his chest, his face turned from her as he gave her time to come to herself. Swallowing, unsure about being so close to anyone right now, especially a man, she tensed and that caused his eyes to swing down to hers.

“I…you were thrashing and then sick. I couldn’t…” his face clouded over. “You’re all I have left, Eavan. I didn’t want to leave you alone.”

It all came rushing back to her. The fighting, the darkspawn, the death, the pain. Waking in Flemeth’s hut in nothing but her smalls and a blanket, being tended to by Morrigan. She glanced around the camp and saw the small fire set off to the side of theirs, Morrigan wrapped tightly in her blanket. She came back to herself at the feel of Alistair’s hands on her shoulders. “I didn’t mean to intrude. I’ll just leave…”

“No, I’m sorry. I’m…very…” her breath huffed out. “Alistair. I have limited experience with human men. And the experiences I’ve had have been…unpleasant. You just startled me. I’m not used to being picked up and moved around.”

He settled back down, his hands falling to his sides awkwardly. “Can I just…hold you a moment? You were so upset and I’m…seeing you upset made me think of Duncan and I just…” his voice broke a bit, his grief welling up from deep inside of him. Grief she understood. Death and loss, the biting pain of being the one left behind. She had seen this daily in her father’s face, had felt it herself with the loss of her mother. And Duncan. He had been the first human man to really see her as something other than an elf, other than just a dirty knife-ear. She felt his loss keenly. And Alistair, she saw, felt it sharper than she did.

She nodded then, tried to relax against him as his large, calloused hands slowly moved around her to hold her loosely against his chest. He seemed afraid of her, afraid to press her against him in what she knew he needed: a hug, an embrace that shared the warmth of living and life. She took pity on him and turned, scooted up on her knees so she could wrap her arms around his neck and cling to him.

At the feeling of her arms wrapping around his neck, he crumpled. His arms tightened, almost painfully so, and he buried his face against her neck to sob out his anguish. This was grief laid open, a heart so shredded with pain that it gushed with sorrow. His tears scalded her, slid down to wet her undershirt, but she didn’t care. She held him as he mourned and joined him in his tears.

Gradually, slowly, the tears dried and she found herself drowsy and lax against his chest. She had slid down to his lap, her arms giving out as her sorrow was wrung from her. His arms had gentled, cradling her against him. She wondered, sleepily, if it was inappropriate to simply sleep on Alistair. He was, after all, very broad and warm. His scratchy shirt was a little uncomfortable, but no worse than the ground. It was, she thought, odd that she was so comfortable with him. He was so very male, so obviously human. But he was also a gentle man, a man who seemed almost as uncomfortable with life as she was. Nuzzling lightly against his chest, Eavan decided to worry about it in the morning. Her nightmare, the sick, the tears, it all had worn her down. Her last thought, as she slid into unconsciousness, was that she hoped he didn’t mind her sleeping here. She was too tired to move.

***

Alistair hadn’t meant to go to Eavan. He hadn’t wanted to upset her anymore than she obviously was. She was, he thought, a bit of a mystery to him. Not that women, in general, weren’t mysteries. Because they were. He had no practical knowledge to help him and nobody around to ask their opinion. He had sat and watched her thrash on her blanket, obviously caught in a nightmare. But when she had woken and then started vomiting, well, he couldn’t help but rush to her.

And now she was asleep against him. He looked down at the woman nestled against his chest and wondered what he was supposed to do with her. He supposed he could move her back to her blanket…though she looked so sweet curled up against him. He could move back to his blanket and…what…would she wake up and scream in the morning if they were on his blanket? Was there blanket etiquette for these types of situations? Was there etiquette for when a person’s attractive female warden companion falls asleep on them after sharing a good cry? The Chantry had not covered what to do in this situation.

After much thought, he moved them closer to the fire and settled back against a pile of firewood. It wasn’t the most comfortable position, but with Eavan curled up on his chest and sleeping deeply, Alistair was loathed to move anymore. He gazed up into the night sky, his eyes tracing patterns among the stars and worked to relax. He tried letting his hands hang at his side, but that was uncomfortable. Then he placed them on his thighs, but that put them disturbingly close to her rear. He finally settled on wrapping them around her and hoping she didn’t wake up and kill him. Slowly, gradually, he settled and found himself drifting off.

***

The sun was just peaking over the horizon when Alistair woke up. Groggy and sore, he tried to remember why he had moved himself from his warm blanket to the wood pile next to the fire. A soft sound made him look down and he saw Eavan still sleeping against him. Her hands were tucked under her cheek and her forehead was wrinkled as she frowned in her sleep. He eyed the rising sun, could hear Morrigan starting to move around, and knew he had to wake her up. His eyes rolled up to stare into the slowly brightening sky and he offered a short prayer to the Maker that he didn’t do anything to make her mad.

“Eavan…” he whispered. “Eavan it’s morning…” She scrubbed her face against his chest and made a non-committal noise. “Eavan…you need to wake up.”

She sighed and looked up, her eyes focusing on his face. “Alistair?”

He offered her a lopsided smile. “That’s me. Alistair. Were you expecting somebody else?”

She looked around the camp, her eyes blinking in the growing light. “Did I fall asleep on you?”

“Um…yes?”

“And you didn’t move me?”

“Well…” his voice went a little panicky. “You were really asleep and you barely weigh anything and I really didn’t want to bother you. Please don’t hurt me.”

His rush of words finished waking her and she sat up, slid off his chest to sit next to him. Scratching at her hair and frowning at the state of her braids, she fought off a wave of embarrassment. “I’m so sorry. That had to have been uncomfortable. And…I don’t usually…what I mean to say is, I am not used to…oh bother it all.”

Alistair had sat up to watch her, his eyes watching her grow flustered. His eyes widened at the embarrassed blush flowing over her cheeks. It was enough to make him snort with laughter.

“What?” She turned narrow eyes on him.

“It’s just…I was so worried you were going to hurt me. And you’re just as embarrassed as I am! That makes me feel better…”

“What? Like I’m supposed to have extensive knowledge of waking up next to human men? Or any men?’

“No! I didn’t mean…Eavan! No. I just. I’ve never slept…with…a woman. Before. Not that we. Did anything other than sleep…Oh Maker I’m sorry.” His eyes were contrite and Eavan sighed.

“Alright. Alright! I’m sorry I put us both in this situation. Next time, maybe just pat my back?”

“Right. Pat your back. I did tell you I was raised in the Chantry, right?”


	4. Chapter 4

"So…” Eavan looked over to see Alistair smiling down at her. “Last night…”

She muttered under her breath. “What about it?”

“Nothing…just…it was cute.”

“Cute?” She glared up at him. “I’m…cute?”

“Well yes. But that’s not what I meant. I meant the whole falling asleep thing. Not that I expect you to do that again….ouch!” Alistair rubbed at his arm. She had punched him midway up the arm and her fist, while tiny, had hurt. “What was that for?”

“For implying I was cute.”

“I didn’t imply…I said it was…oh Maker! Stop hitting me!” Alistair held up his hands in defeat. “Fine. You’re not cute. You’re scary. Very scary.”

Eavan scrubbed at her face. “Look, Alistair, it’s not that I don’t like you. I do. For a human you’re alright. You haven’t manhandled me and you don’t call me knife-ear. But last night? It shouldn’t have happened. I can handle myself. I can…do this myself. I don’t need…damn it.” She brushed a hand over her cheek and sighed.

“What was your dream about?” his voice had gone quiet and serious. “If you don’t mind me asking, that is.”

She scratched at the back of her neck and then pulled of her helmet to rub at one ear. Alistair was beginning to recognize this as her way of dealing with difficult questions. He watched her smooth her hand over her ear, the skin on the delicate point reddened from the leather. His hand slowly reached out to touch her ear, jerking back when she started to talk, “There was this…monster. With a long neck and big teeth. And it was chasing me through the Arl’s Keep. It was about to eat me when I woke up.”

Alistair pondered what she had said. “It sounds like the Archdemon. But why was it running through the Arl’s Keep? What Arl?”

Eavan tugged on one of her braids and glanced at him. “Did Duncan ever tell you how he conscripted me?”

“Oh…no. We didn’t have the time, what with the battle planning and the Joining. Why?”

“Let’s just say I had to be saved because of some accusations by the Arl’s son and leave it at that.”

Alistair eyed her with a speculative look, “What did you do, break into his keep and steal something.”

Eavan shook her head and moved to walk up with Morrigan. “Not exactly,” was her response.

***

Eavan walked with Morrigan the rest of the way to Lothering. They hadn’t been that far out from the town and made good time. There had been only one fight. The mabari she had saved had found them, running at her full tilt with a gaggle of darkspawn at his heels. The darkspawn had been easy to put down, practically running into her blades in their haste to get to the dog.

She had looked down at the panting, blood-smeared mabari and had shaken her head. She had named him Lucky because really, it fit, and had declared him a new member of their group. Alistair had slipped into baby talk. Morrigan had grumbled.

Walking with Lucky on one side and Morrigan on the other, Eavan pondered her new life. She was slowly becoming aware of the fact that Alistair deferred to her. Every decision from where they should go to when they should set camp was left to her. Morrigan refused to do more than offer snide commentary and off-hand comments. Lucky was a dog. And Alistair, well, he just looked at her with his earnest eyes and did whatever he was told.

He was the strangest human she had ever met. Most of the humans she had seen or been around had ignored her until they needed something fetched or cleaned. If they weren’t ordering her around, they were yelling at her and calling her names. Her father hadn’t liked her to leave the Alienage, always worried she would find herself back into a corner and forced to defend herself. He knew she was like her mother, knew she would rather fight and die than give in and let some dirty shem have their way with her.

But Alistair seemed nearly beside himself with anxiety when they spoke. She wasn’t sure if it was because she was a woman, an elf, an elven woman…he was just nerves. Oh, he tried to cover it up with humor. Bad humor, good humor, silliness…if he thought he could make a joke, he would. And Maker help her, some of them were doozies. She understood now when Duncan had told her that Alistair defied description. Oh sure, she could say “he’s the tall blond shem wearing splint mail,” but that wouldn't really describe Alistair. No, to describe Alistair she’d have to say “he’s the tall blond shem wearing the dented, slightly askew splint mail who is currently beet red and covered in gravy because he tripped while carrying his dinner.” And even that left off the grinning laughter he would be doing at his own expense.

 

It was plain as day that Morrigan did not appreciate this attempt at humor. She was also a strange human, though Eavan figured that was due to her magical abilities. And the fact that she had lived in the wilderness her whole life. Eavan liked her, even if Alistair didn’t. She appreciated her honesty. And Morrigan had never treated her different, something Eavan cherished. But the woman did not like Alistair. Or the dog. Eavan thought about moving back to walk with Alistair but worried he’d trip and fall over himself in an effort to apologize. Or ask her again about her dream.

She was not ready to delve into what had happened at the Arl’s Keep.


	5. Chapter 5

Lothering had been pretty as a picture. And then they had actually made it into town and the pretty had settled into abject misery. And templars. Eavan had seen templars, sure. From afar in Denerim. They came into the Alienage on occasion to look for apostates. When they did, the elves had locked themselves away and tried to ignore the armored men clanking through their squalid settlement. Rarely, they found a child who had just come into their powers and the Alienage would be filled with wailing and screaming as the child was torn away from their family.

Eavan did not like templars.

To her, they were the epitome of shem dominance. They wore shiny metal armor that covered them from head to toe. They carried large swords. They didn’t have to follow the rules. They could hurt anybody to get what they needed done. And they took children. She didn’t believe one bit about how wonderful the Circle was. Shem talked about how great it was the elves had the Alienage. How wonderful it was that they had a place. But they never actually WENT to the Alienage. Just like nobody ever went to the Circle. And it was all Chantry ordained. Weren’t they the ones who had pretty much destroyed elven culture?

Eavan wasn’t one hundred percent sure. The elves in the Alienage had enough on their plate without worrying about old elven cities and lost magics. But she was pretty sure the Chantry had been responsible for her people being stuck living in filth and being spit on. So the minute she had entered Lothering and had been stopped by a templar, the town had gone from pretty to just another Shem settlement.

They had gone in and gotten supplies and news. That had been the original goal. Go in, get supplies, get news, get out and head to Redcliff. Somehow that got turned into go in, get supplies, get news, recruit the Chantry sister, and save the very large, quiet man sitting in a cage. She wasn’t sure how she felt about the Chantry sister. She was pretty chatty. And perky. And…Andrastian. But Eavan figured she needed help and Leliana was willing and seemingly able. She’d just gloss over the visions. Yes.

The man, though. Eavan kept glancing over at Sten with worry. He was very big. Bigger than Alistair. And quiet. And he didn’t smile. His eyes held echoes of violence and were filled with mistrust. The fact that he was Qunari didn't help, either. She had only saved him because caging any living person with the darkspawn horde headed toward them was cruel. But…she worried. He seemed to expect her to be some great leader. A great warrior.

Eavan was just…Eavan. A city elf thrown into this mess by happenstance. Truly, she should have been swinging from the gallows by now. Buried in an unmarked criminal’s grave. She wasn’t a leader. She couldn’t even read a map, for the Maker’s sake. She glanced at Sten once more, noted him noticing her glances, and went to sit at the fire.

Which is where Alistair found her. “You doing ok there, fearless leader?”

That made her growl a bit. “Alistair? Can you I ask you a question?”

“Sure…you can ask…” his face lit up with a grin. “Doesn’t mean I can answer it.”

Her sigh was deep and heartfelt. “Why am I leading us? You’ve been a Grey Warden longer. And you’re human. I’m an elf!”

“Well I don’t know how to lead,” said Alistair with worry. “Don’t look at me. I’ll get us lost. I’ll lose my pants. We’ll end up wandering in circles in the wilderness…pantsless…”

She blinked at him. “But didn’t you learn things in the Chantry? How to read maps and whatnot?”

“I learned how to say the Chant and how to be a templar. And even then I wasn’t good at it.”

“Wait,” Eavan held up her hand. “Back up about ten paces. You were studying to be a templar?”

“Didn’t this…didn’t this come up already?”

“No, being raised by dogs came up. The Chantry came up. The Arl of Redcliff came up. The templars? I didn’t think to ask about that.” She squinted at him. “How many little kids have you dragged away from their mums, then? Hmm?”

“I? What? Little kids? No…NO! I never…What?” Alistair was panicking under Eavans glare. He was sweating. He hadn’t taken any little kids, had he? Maker’s breath! If he had he would give them back! Anything to make her stop being so mad at him.

“That’s what they do. They would come into the Alienage and drag away kids. Said they were a menace. Did you do that?” She had moved closer to him and was poking his chest with a finger.

“I didn’t finish…I didn’t take any vows, Eavan. I was being trained, yes, but I never made it to full templar. I swear to you.” Alistair slowly relaxed. “What was that about taking kids?”

“They always said it was for their own good but you could hear the screaming and crying. Sometimes, they hit them.” Eavan looked away. “It didn’t happen a lot. Just once in a while. When a child showed magical talents, the men in armor would show up and we’d all go hide. You’d hear the wailing and sobbing, and if you looked outside, the templars marching the child away. I asked a Sister once where they went. She said it was to the Circle to protect them from demons. She said the Circle was a wonderful place, a place just for mages. But you know, it got me thinking. The shem, they say the Alienage is just for elves, and they always say it so smugly. So I wondered if the Circle was like that. A place the shems claim to be amazing and where you belong but really it’s just a shitty hellhole with bad plumbing.”

Alistair ran that entire speech through his brain twice, just to make sure he was following her thoughts. He supposed it made sense in a way. The elves might view templars as nothing more than human invaders. He had had Eavan explain what a shem was and it saddened him to think he might be viewed that way, as nothing more than a dirty human. He took her hands in his, hoping she wouldn’t see it as him trying to be anything but a friend, “Look. I swear to you that I never took vows. I am not a templar. I just received the training. And I didn’t ask to be a templar, it was thrust upon me. Decided for me. It’s not the life I would have wanted. If I had known how you thought about them I would have told you sooner. So I’m sorry. I’m sorry that you had to go through that. That the elves still go through that. It’s not fair.”

She looked down at his hands holding hers. His large, capable, rough hands. They were honest hands, hands she wanted to believe in. They covered hers completely, engulfed them in a gentle grasp. When he squeezed her hands, it was tender. Not a vice grip, but a warm pressure. Her eyes met his and she saw the honesty there and the fear. Of her, she thought. He was a little afraid of her. The thought was confusing, so she packed it away to pick at later. “Alright…I’m…sorry. I jumped to conclusions about you and I’m sorry. You have been nothing but kind to me. I just…human men. I always expect the worst.”

“Why?” He tilted his head, his eyes quizzical. “Did something happen?”

“Alistair,” her laugh was shaky, “I’m a female elf.” She said it as if that explained away everything.

“Yes, I thought we had established that pretty early on.” Alistair nodded.

“Maker, did they teach you nothing in that Chantry? Many men find young female elves attractive. They hound us if we’re by ourselves. Some of them think we’re fair game – that all of us are nothing but sluts to be used and thrown away.”

Alistair’s face flamed. For a moment she thought she had embarrassed him but then his hands tightened a hair too tight. “Did somebody hurt you, Eavan? Is that it? Did they…hurt you?” His voice was low, angry. His gaze was heavy on her, his eyes snapping with his temper. “If they did, then you need to tell me. I don’t want to scare you just because some…you should tell me.”

She was shocked at his intensity. He seemed so upset for her, was bristled like an angry mabari. “No, I…not exactly no. Not like what you think. I don’t really want to talk about it but no. I wasn’t…raped…if that’s what you mean.” She cleared her throat, thoughts of Shianni making her eyes water. “No. Just harassed, and once I had to run from a drunk.”

Alistair watched her for a moment and then nodded. “Ok. I don’t know what I would have done but…ok. Do I scare you?” He watched her shake her head no. “Maybe, you’ll let me just sit here for a while?”

Eavan patted his hand and leaned against his shoulder. “You can sit next to me anytime, Alistair. Anytime.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For anybody interested - Eavan calls humans she dislikes shems...and everybody else just human. To her, there's a difference. I try to watch for that when I'm writing. This has been a PSA about Eavan.


	6. Chapter 6

Alistair watched Eavan the next couple of days, his mind traveling back to their earlier conversation about templars and elves and men. He was sure she wasn’t telling him everything, that there was more to the story of human men than what she had told him. He wouldn’t say she was afraid of him, skittish maybe, but not afraid.

But Sten. Sten scared her. Oh, he could see her trying to hide behind her polite smiles and her questions. But if she had to speak to Sten, if she couldn’t get Alistair or Leliana to do it, she would twist her hands and turn a little pale. And after the conversation, she’d be quiet. Very quiet. Too quiet for Alistair’s taste. And once, when they were at camp, he found her retching into the brush after talking to him. She had been clammy and shaking that time, had cowered a bit from him until she came back from wherever it was she went when she saw Sten.

He knew he needed to find out why, that it was important. He didn’t need to know because she was their leader and he worried about her abilities. And he didn’t need to know because she was a Grey Warden. He needed to know because Alistair was falling in love with her. If something had happened to her, if it had been done by a human, then he needed to find a way to work around it. Or at least ease her fear.

Assuming, of course, she could ever look at him as anything more than a bumbling fool of a man. And that was another thing. She was very open with him most of the time. She let him touch her hand and sit next to her. But he didn’t really know how she thought of him. And the Maker knew he had no clue on how to ask her. 

So it was with great personal resolve that he tracked her down that evening when they made camp. She wasn’t with the group and she wasn’t with the merchants they had found and agreed to let travel with them. She was off by a little pond, knees tucked under her chin while she watched the waterbugs play. 

“Can I join you?” he winced a bit when she started. 

She glanced up at him, flushed a bit, and nodded. Taking that as a welcome invitation, Alistair eased to sit down next to her. He was suddenly glad that he had removed his splint mail. Clad in just his breeches and tunic, he didn’t clank loudly. He thought maybe the armor noises sometimes bothered her. “You ok? Eavan?” He watched her eyes meet his.

“I’m just…Sten.” She sighed.

“What about him? You seem nervous around him.”

“He told me that I could either be a woman or a warrior. Not both. And I’m trying to decide if he insulted me or if this is another of those Qun things I don’t understand. He makes me feel stupid and unworthy. And he’s so…big. So…” her hands fluttered as she tried to explain her worry.

“Is that a problem? Big men?”

She glanced at him for a moment. “Well, a little. I had a little problem with Duncan when I first met him. He was so…I could tell he was accomplished with his weapons. But it was easy with him. He set the rules pretty quickly and I respected that. Sten…he’s just. Big.”

“Why do big men scare you?” Alistair turned to look at her. “I just feel like there’s something you aren’t telling me.”

Eavan shivered slightly, rubbed a hand over her face. Then she surprised him. She crawled over to him and curled up on his lap, pressed her face against his chest, and sighed. “I don’t like thinking about it.”

Alistair was at a loss. He held his arms out to the side for a moment and then oh-so-gently wrapped them around her. “What? I…”

“I feel safe with you, Alistair. Safe. Do you know how amazing that is?” Her head tilted up so she could offer him a shy smile. “You don’t grab at me or leer or make rude comments. I just…needed to feel safe.”

Alistair beamed. He felt ten feet tall. He felt like he could defeat the Blight by himself. He made her feel safe. It was like one of the stories with a knight and a princess and the knight swoops in and saves the day, saves the princess, and gets a kiss. His brain ground to a halt at the thought of kissing and Eavan and he held himself very still as he worked through the sudden want.

“Alistair?” Eavan was watching his face, “I…yes, something happened. There were men. They took some of us from the Alienage and…hurt a friend of mine. And I…couldn’t stop them.” She swallowed, unwilling to give more information but hoping this would help him understand her fears.

He swallowed at her words, held her close and hugged her. “I’m so sorry. I wish I had been there to stop them.”

She smiled against his chest, “You are as sweet as you are handsome. Oh…” She blinked and stiffened.

“You think I’m handsome?” 

She wiggled in embarrassment. Alistair’s face flamed at her movements in his lap and he tightened his hold on her. “Oh you know you are. I mean, you have to have been told before, right?” Eavan tried for humor.

“Right, because there have been so many women lining up to compliment me. Well, there was that woman in Denerim and ah…I don’t think she falls under the category of “lady.”” His voice was a mixture of dry humor and mild panic. “So…handsome?”

She leaned back to look at him, rested back against his arms and offered him a smile. A full smile. One that reached her eyes and warmed her face. He inhaled at it, marveled at how tempting she looked. “Handsome. And sweet. And not just for a human, either.”

“High praise,” he murmured and gave in to the urge to kiss her cheek. She held still for a moment, as if trying to decide how she felt about the kiss, and then moved to press one on his cheek. They sat there for a while, sharing shy smiles. Alistair wasn’t sure where to go from here but he knew he’d be figuring it out. And soon.


	7. Chapter 7

“So...” Eavan's voice drew out the word, enlongated the syllable to encompass her mixed emotions at what Alistair had just said, and cocked an eyebrow at him. “You are the heir to the Ferelden throne? Should I be bowing to you? Calling you Majesty?”

Alistair was sweating. His hands were twisting together as he swayed. “No. Oh no. Don't...no. I'm not. No. If anybody is the heir to the throne, it's Arl Eamon. I'm just a nobody. A big old nobody.”

“Who happens to be King Maric's bastard son.”

“Can we emphasize the bastard part in there? Bastard...bastardy...of no interest. That's me. Alistair the bastard. Yes.”

She watched him for a moment and he wilted under her gaze. Then she shook her head. “Maker's breath, Alistair. Anything else you have hidden away? A love child? A wife?”

He shook his head, “No, just the bastard thing.”

“Alistair. Why did you wait till now to tell me?”

“Oh well, see, I just...I didn't want...I was afraid to.”

“What? Why?” Eavan was more than confused by that. Afraid to tell her? Was she so scary? “Am I so scary?”

“Oh no! I just didn't want you to treat me differently. People find out and they suddenly treat me different. Even Duncan. You saw how he kept me out of the fighting. I just...wanted you to like me for me. I guess that's pretty stupid, huh.” Amazingly, he drooped even more, his face a mask of resignation. “I guess that was too much to hope for.”

Eavan had a speech prepared to answer Alistair. It had been a pretty good one, too, at least in her mind. But Alistair's sadness was too much for her. “Alistair, you're wonderful. Why would I not like you? You've been there for me since I arrived in Ostagar. You don't call me names or treat me as less than you for simply being an elf. And you’re funny and sweet. I can work with this. You're Maric's heir. Ok. It's good to know. I'm sure it'll come up again, right?”

“Maker I hope not.” Alistair straightened, his face brightening when she patted his hand. “You...you really like me?”

She rolled her eyes. “Yes Alistair, I really like you. Now maybe we can actually get into Redcliff to see this Arl. I hope he's not a twit. The last Arl I met was...erm...not a stellar human.”

“A shem, then?”

“In the worst way possible.”

***

An hour later and she was back to staring at Alistair with a mixture of annoyance and exasperation. “Good grief. Undead shambling things? The Arl is sick? And what was up with that Teagan fellow? And why are you standing so close to me?”

Alistair was hovering over her, his hand pressed to her back. He had been there since they had left the Chantry. He had stayed there through her discussion with Murdock, the town’s mayor. She had finally gestured to the group to go to the tavern and gather information so that she could drag him to the water for a talk. He looked down at her and offered her a tight smile. “What?”

“You’re practically standing on top of me. And you haven’t stopped touching me since I met Teagan. What is up with you?”

“He was flirting with you.” He said so matter-of-factly. There was no humor in his voice, no teasing. Alistair _always_ teased. There was just a serious tone of voice and a faint frown on his face.

“Well yes, a little. But it was polite and surprisingly pleasant. If I had known there were shem…humans… out there like you two I wouldn’t have such a terrible opinion of all human men. What? Alistair? What did I say?”

He had finally moved away from her to stare out at the water. His face looked resigned and a little sad. Eavan took a moment to rethink what had just happened. The talk with Teagan, the way Alistair had moved up to stand with her when the Bann had complimented her. Alistair’s tight face and hovering. At first she thought maybe he was worried Teagan had frightened her. But…he was looking sad now and oh…Maker…

“Are you jealous?” Her voice was mildy incredulous.

“No. Why would I be jealous? If you want to flirt with Teagan, that’s your right. There’s nothing saying you can’t. He’d be an idiot to not want to flirt with you.” Alistair’s tone was short and brittle.

“You are! You’re jealous. Alistair. What’s there to be jealous of? He was just being pleasant. I was just impressed with how friendly he was with me, that’s all.” She took his arm and shook it, trying to get him to look at her.

He sagged slightly. “You’re not interested in him?”

“Maker no!” She laughed a little and wrapped her arms around his waist. “No. If I was going to be interested in anybody, it wouldn’t be him.”

Alistair’s lips had curved up at her words. He let one of his arms curl around her shoulders and fit her to him. “That’s…good to know…”


	8. Chapter 8

Eavan stood at the crest of the hill overlooking Redcliff and tried to wipe undead goo off of her boots. They had survived the nighttime assault with minimal casualties. Minimal meaning she had leapt in front of Murdock and gotten a thigh full of sword and then two arrow wounds to the shoulder. And while Morrigan was adept at injuring people with magic, she was no healer. Luckily, there were potions and bandages. She wasn't in terrible shape, but she was tired, sore, bloody and cranky.

And being insulted by a woman with a poncy accent. Eavan did not like the Lady Isolde. She had come out of nowhere, demanded Teagan go with her, and then was rude to Alistair. Eavan twitched her nose at the woman and removed her helmet to scratch at an ear. “Look, Teagan, I can't tell you what to do. I don't know if I'd trust this shem or not, she seems rather shady. But you have to make your own decisions in this. It just seems risky.”

Teagan blinked at Eavan's blunt speech, then smiled. “Your candor is appreciated, my lady.” He smiled wider at her blush. “But I should go with Isolde. Maybe I can provide a distraction. Isolde, please let me talk to the Lady Eavan for a moment. And then we shall go.” Eavan shot Alistair a look and sighed. She detested being called “Lady Eavan,” but Teagan used it at every opportunity. She went with Teagan, told him she'd be fine going through the basement, and then sent him off with the annoying woman.

When they were out of sight, she turned to Alistair and shook her head. “That's the Arl's wife?”

“Yes. That's Lady Isolde. Why?”

“She’s a shrew. And annoying. Are you sure she's not...erm...you know. With Teagan?”

Eavan watched as the wheels in Alistair's brain turned. Leliana was giggling, her hands covering her mouth. Eavan grinned at her, both women watching as understanding started to dawn on Alistair.

“You think that Isolde and Teagan are...” He flushed. “Oh...I don't. I...oh...”

“He's cute when he blushes.” Leliana pointed out, grinning at Alistair's discomfort. 

Eavan bit her lip and hid her own grin behind her hand. She couldn't help but giggle at Alistair's blush and Leliana's teasing. She caught Sten's frown and swallowed her mirth, straightening. “Ah, I suppose we should...head into the keep. Yes?” She gave Sten another glance and then went to go figure out the lock into the cellar. Leliana chuckled, following Eavan. Alistair frowned slightly at Sten and then followed the women.

***

The night sky was particularly clear that evening in camp and it was pleasant, even if they were just outside of a Keep filled with undead corpses. Eavan lounged near the fire and watched the stars twinkle and thought about the day: the fight through the Redcliff Keep, the little boy she had talked to, the sick Arl, and Alistair. It was all a muddle of impressions still, her mind fighting to come to terms with the undead and spirits she had fought and the little boy who had caused all of the trouble. To be fair, Eavan had found one thing she and Isolde had agreed on. Connor, the Arl's son, should not be killed. And Eavan could even understand Isolde's desire to hide her son's abilities. After all, who would want to let the templars come and take their son? Still, Eavan wasn't sure she was ready to be friendly with Isolde. This was the woman who had made Alistair's childhood painful, who had sent him to the Chantry. She seemed to be a petty woman, one filled with jealousy.

She watched as Alistair entered camp, his hair still damp from the quick scrubbing he had done at the lake. His shirt clung to his chest and accented his muscles. He did have a lot of muscle, thought Eavan idly. Her eyes tracked him as he went to his tent to stow his gear. Her face flushed when he bent over to push his armor into this tent and she swung her eyes back up to the sky. She needed to talk to him, but she wasn't sure now was a good time. Not with her blood buzzing in her veins and her tongue swelling with shyness. 

She was struggling with herself, with the realization that she was looking at Alistair as something more than a human man, when he plopped himself down next to her. He gave her a smile, his expression happy. “Have I told you today that you are the best? Because if not, well...you are.”

“What?” She sat up, her look quizzical. “What are you talking about?”

“You're insistence on not killing Connor. And all the help you gave to Redcliff. Well...you're the best.” He scooted closer to her and draped an arm over her shoulders.

Eavan wasn't sure what to make of this, though she did like the proximity to Alistair. He was very comfortable to lean against, sturdy and safe. She leaned against him now and allowed herself to relax. “I found something. While we were at the keep.” She glanced up at him as she pulled a small amulet from her pocket. She looked down at it for a moment and then offered it to him.

Alistair took the locket, his arm leaving her shoulders so that he could hold it up and examine the little amulet. His eyes grew wide and damp. “Where did you find this?”

“In the Arl's study. Don't ask. I'm a horrible snoop. Anyway, I found this and you had told me once that your mother had left you one just like it. I thought, perhaps...it was yours.”

Alistair stared at the amulet, his thumb rubbing over the face of it. “You can see where it was put back together. Why would he do this?”

“Maybe you were more important to him than you realized. You were a child, Alistair. He wouldn't have blamed you for being angry. He probably hoped to give it to you when you got older and well, circumstances changed.”

“I...I should talk to him about this. When he's better. Apologize. I...don't know. See if we can maybe start over.” He gave the amulet another look and then tucked it away in his pocket. He reached for her again, pulling her into his arms. “You saw it and thought of me? You actually listened to me? Nobody ever listens to me...or remembers what I say.”

Eavan couldn't help but smile at him, “Of course I listened to you. This was important to you.”

“Wow...” Alistair breathed. He looked into her eyes, his widening as realization punched him in the gut. “Wow...” he whispered again as he drew her closer. Eavan held her breath as his lips hovered near hers, and then exhaled softly when he pressed a gentle kiss to her cheek.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> While I am not writing the entire Origins adventure word-for-word, there will be times that I pull from a conversation - because it is iconic or because I just like it. :-)

The next day, preparing to launch the boats to head to the Circle, Alistair found himself in a contemplative mood. It wasn't a completely unheard of state for him to be in. Sometimes, when the group was walking, he found himself thinking about Duncan and Ostagar. Those thoughts would lead to worries about the Blight and how they could best stop it. But usually Alistair spent his time talking with Eavan or Leliana. Today, however, he was quiet. His mind replayed the night before with Eavan and his mother's amulet. He could clearly see Eavan's face tilting towards his, her lips slightly parted and inviting. For a brief moment he had thought about closing the distance and kissing her. And then his nerves had gotten the better of him and he had kissed her cheek. 

But he wondered what she would do if he did kiss her. And he did want to kiss her. Maker above, they hadn't known each other very long. Weeks, it had only been weeks. And yet he found himself thinking of her before bed at night and before he got up in the morning. He tried to keep her in his sights at all times, which was mildly embarrassing when she wanted to go bathe. And then there was the entire Teagan episode. And now the kissing.

Alistair had never, really, had a crush or been in love before. He had never pined for a lover or even had a lover. Courtship had been learned through listening to the knights talk. And after he had joined the Wardens, listening to them talk. Oh, he knew women liked to be complimented and given gifts. He knew they liked to be listened to. And, Maker's Breath, he even had some ideas of what they liked when...they were...if he ever got to with Eavan...his brain seized up at the thought of moving past kissing. For a brief moment, his blush was so hot that he actually lost the ability to see and he tripped. To his everlasting mortification, it was Eavan who helped right him. Her hand touching his arm made his entire body sing with awareness. He looked down at her, into her big blue eyes, and felt his heart turn over.

***

He had settled himself on the boat, his eyes firmly not on all that water currently holding them up, when Eavan sat down next to him. She grinned, noting his pinched expression. “Not a fan of boats?”

“I'm in all this metal armor. Oh sure, I can swim, but not with this...stuff...” he flicked his shiny new breastplate and sighed. “Not that I don't appreciate the new armor but...I'm going to sink to the bottom of the lake if the boat tips over.”

She chuckled. “Oh Alistair. I think we'll be fine. See, Sten is...well...no, he's looking a bit green too. Alright, so we'll be fine. Fine. I've never been on a boat before.”

Her excited smile made him smile. He watched as the rest of the party settled into their seats, Morrigan frowning up at Sten and Leliana chattering at Lucky. He shook his head. _It was too bad they couldn't have gotten two boats_ , he thought. 

“So...Alistair...” He looked back down at Eavan and noticed her blushing. “I'm a little bit curious. And I think this might clear up some, um, questions I have about you.” She fidgeted with her rucksack, finally shoving it under the bench they were sharing. “So, you were raised in the Chantry, right?”

Alistair nodded as he turned, carefully straddling the bench so he could look her in the face. “Yep. Chantry raised.”

“So does this mean you've never....” she turned to face him, her voice dropping, “You know.”

“Never...never what? Never owned a nice pair of shoes?” He watched her struggle to not laugh and grinned. 

“Alistair,” Eavan's voice was slightly aggravated, her face reddening. “You know what I mean.”

Alistair leaned a little closer to her. “I'm not sure that I do, Eavan. Have I never what? Never ate jellied ham? Never seen a Basilisk? Never licked a lamp post in winter?” He closed the distance between them, his voice lowering suggestively. “Have you ever licked a lamp post in winter?” His eyes fell to her lips and he wondered at himself a bit, enjoying the teasing but mildly worried he would put her off with his forward behavior.

Eavan's face flamed red. She wasn't sure if she was blushing because his face was so close to hers, his eyes were watching her lips, or if it was the way he had asked the question. She moistened her lips with her tongue and watched his eyes dilate. “Um. No. I've never...licked a lamp post in winter.”

Alistair's face split into a pleased smile. He sat back a bit and waggled his eyebrows at her. “Well good. Some poor sod got dared to when I was a kid and there was screaming and crying. Oh the humanity!” He looked away, his face growing a little serious. “I, myself, have not done _it_... _that_. I was raised to be a gentleman and to take such...intimacies...seriously.” 

Eavan nodded. “I was too. Well, raised to...ah...respect that. It's not...I mean.” She struggled for a moment. “I came to the Wardens unmarried and from a respectable family.”

Alistair nodded, his ears pinking as he tried to look nonchalant. “So...you aren't being courted, then? No beaus back in the Alienage pining for you?” She shook her head at his questions. “And if you were courted, you'd want a gentleman, right? I mean...if you were...assuming you'd want to be....courted...” Alistair fumbled a bit, earnestness in every word.

“Yes...I think...yes. I'd like that, Alistair.” She answered the question he wanted to ask but couldn't seem to put into words.

Her yes made him grin, made him beam with happiness. He took her hands and gently raised one to his mouth to press a soft kiss to the palm before squeezing them. She flushed and shivered slightly and squeezed his hands back. Alistair thought, perhaps, he'd find a moment to give her the rose he'd been carrying around. And maybe, if that went well, a kiss.


	10. Chapter 10

The boats had let them off at a small dock across from the Circle tower. Apparently, you took the Circle's boat across or you just didn't get in. Eavan had frowned but not argued. What good was arguing going to do?

She had sent Leliana to scope out the tavern. The former Sister was the only person in the group any good at ferreting out information. Alistair got flustered, Morrigan tended to threaten, Sten grunted at people, Lucky was a dog and she...she was just an elf. It was fine for her to lead the group, to figure out where to go and how to handle situations. She was discovering that most decisions could be boiled down to common sense answers and trying to decide how much fighting she actually wanted to do. But getting information from a bartender? Well, a human had a better chance at that.

She was staring fixedly at the tower when Alistair found her. Her eyes didn't leave the tall spire in the distance and he noted the slight curl to her shoulders. “You ok? You look...scared.”

“A little. Look at it out there. All tall and foreboding. Leliana came back to tell me she had met the boat owner. He's been relieved of his position. Something is happening in the tower, he had said. She's going to see if the bartender has more information, but I'm worried. And there's a templar watching the docks.”

He could see the armored figure pacing up and down the docks, sunlight glinting off his helmet. He looked back down at Eavan and watched as she hunched in on herself even more. “You really don't like men in armor, huh?”

She sighed and slid to the ground, pulled her knees up to her chest and hugged her legs tightly. “No. They scare me. They make me angry. They make me want to yell and scream and throw things, but also to hide and cower.”

He sat down next to her and watched her press her face against her knees. “Eavan, are you ever going to tell me why? You...hinted at it. But you have never actually told me why you are so afraid of them. So angry. Back at Redcliff? When the knights first approached I worried I was going to have to take your weapons.”

She smiled slightly against her knee. “Ser Perth turned out to be a very nice man. I just...only saw his armor at first. And how tall he was. And his sword.” She rubbed her cheek slowly over the scratchy fabric of her pants, thinking. “I don’t know, Alistair. Those wounds, they are still fresh. They are...it's...” she sighed. “It's not an easy thing to speak of.”

He nodded, his eyes on the tower as he thought. “Something bad happened, then. Maybe you don't...trust me enough...” He felt a little sad at the thought. He wished she would tell him, could tell him. Maybe if he wasn't so blighted tall and big, he thought sadly. Maybe if he wasn't human. Maybe what he felt for her was destined to be one-sided because he wasn't an elf. He blinked at the touch of her hand on his.

“I do trust you, Alistair. It's not you, really it's not. I know it's hard to believe. I mean, you are a very big human man wearing an awful lot of shiny armor. But you're not...you're different. You...you make me feel very safe. You know that.” Eavan flushed. 

He remembered their talk, back before Redcliff. They had spoken about Sten and she had admitted that something had happened. Had glossed over it, but still. His mind replayed the conversation and he started to wonder, started to piece together what may have happened. Maybe not directly to her, but maybe to somebody she knew. She had said she had never been raped, and the thought of any man laying a hand on her made his blood boil, made Alistair's vision go red, but she had said she had been taken. Taken...by men...and something had happened at an Arl's keep. 

“Did the Arl of Denerim hurt you?”

Eavan blinked at Alistair. “What?” Her face was waxy. 

“You had told me something had happened at an Arl's keep. And that you and some of your friends had been taken. Did the Arl of Denerim hurt you?” Her fingers tightened around her legs. Alistair could see her knuckles going white as she started shaking. He made a decision then and reached for her and tugged her onto his lap. She struggled briefly but then settled, her body shivering against his. “Eavan? You should just tell me. How else can I help if you don't tell me?”

Giving in, she slumped against him. “It wasn't the Arl. It was the Arl's son, Vaughan. He and some of his friends came to the Alienage. It was a wedding day and we were all...he took a bunch of the women, me included. And my cousin, Shianni. I begged him to leave her, that I'd do whatever he wanted if he'd just leave her and he hit me, hard. I think I blacked out because when I came to...I was in the keep, in a room with the other women and Shianni was gone.” She sobbed once and then pulled herself back together.

“What happened? How did you get out?”

“Duncan was at the Alienage that day. He sent my cousin Soris to save us. Soris and...another man, Nelaros. Soris found us, gave me a sword. I killed them, Alistair. Every man I came across, I cut them down, and I still wasn't fast enough to save Shianni. Vaughan...that rat bastard shem...he...he...”

Alistair clutched her to his chest, his heart beating wildly as he clung to her. “Tell me you killed him.”

Her voice hardened, grew cold, “I took his head. I still see it in my dreams. Shianni on the ground broken and that pig standing over her, offering me money to leave her. And I always say no. I always see myself slicing into his neck. And Shianni...always on the ground asking me why I wasn't fast enough, why I wasn't good enough...why...” She broke, her sobs shaking her as she pummeled her fists against Alistair's chest. “It should have been me! ME! Not her...not Shianni. Not...her. Never her. Why was it her? WHY?” 

Alistair held her, let her punch and sob and shake until the grief and anger worked its way through her and she had quieted. She lay so still against him, limp and quiet, and he worried for a moment that she had harmed herself. “Eavan. I'm...I'm so sorry. I shouldn't have pushed. I...I'm sorry.”

“No, you should have known early. It was cowardly of me to not tell. Not when you told me about your father.” Her voice was quiet, raspy from her tears. “Duncan...he conscripted me. Right out from under the guard. Took me away that day. I barely got to say good bye to my father.”

“Do you hate him? Duncan?”

Eavan shook her head. “No, he saved me. Believed in me. Told me that I was a Warden now, not a child or an elf, a Warden. He believed in me, Alistair. Believed that I was more than just a dirty knife-ear. And after what had happened, that was a miracle to me. If he hadn't conscripted me, I'd be dead, left out as an example to the other elves. Do what you’re told, don’t make waves, or this could be you. Duncan saved me from that.”

“Eavan...”Alistair cupped her face in his hands and rubbed his thumbs over her cheeks. “I'm so very glad that he did.”


	11. Chapter 11

The Spoiled Princess was a nicer inn than Eavan had been expecting. Though after clearing the tower of abominations, her standard of nice was pretty low. Abominations. That was what had been plaguing the Circle tower. Eavan had stared at the Knight Commander with tired eyes as he went on about how sealing the mages in _with_ the monsters was the right thing to do and he was just waiting to hear from Denerim about killing them all off. She had glanced at Alistair, noted the head-shake, and had sighed. Stupid shem in his stupid armor. Weren’t they all armed and trained for this?

Eavan had taken three people with her and between the four of them…well five if she counted Wynne, a Circle mage who had gone with them…they had cleared the entire blighted tower from bottom to top. She had even been sent to the Fade by a demon. That had made her cranky. Killing Duncan in a Fade dream had pissed her off to the point that she had rampaged through the demon’s dreamscape killing everything in sight. It had been left a smoking ruin. Killing the demon had made her feel damn good. 

She had secured the tower, returned the Knight Enchanter, and then proceeded to commandeer both the mages and some boats to take them back to Redcliff in the morning. There hadn’t been much noise made at her demands by that point. She figured every armed man in the tower was rethinking their martial abilities because a tiny slip of an elf had basically done the job an entire garrison of templars had been too cowardly to do. She had left feeling slightly vindicated. 

She was now sprawled on the bed in her room. It was a pretty good bed, Eavan thought. Better than what she had had in the Alienage. And the sheets were clean, which was a bonus. Not everyone had deigned to stay in the inn. Morrigan had muttered something about needing time alone to read a book Eavan had found for her and had taken off to study at her campsite. Leliana had offered to bunk with Wynne, the two of them chatting amicably. Sten and Alistair were in the other room. Which left Eavan alone with Lucky. She stretched on the bed and luxuriated at the quiet.

The knock on the door was hesitant. Eavan knew who it was without even getting up. “Come in, Alistair.”

The door opened a bit and his head popped in. He spied her on the bed and grinned at her. “It’s ok? I don’t want to bother you…”

“Come in, you’re not a bother.” She sat up and scooted over, patting the bed. “This is a pretty decent bed. I will miss this bed when we are back to camping.”

Alistair laughed and went to join her. The minute he sat on the bed, they both quieted and gazed at each other. Anticipation at being in a closed room together swirled around them. Alistair cleared his throat. “So, ah. I wanted to see how you were doing. You were pretty…cranky…when we left the Circle tower.”

“Ugh.” Eavan fell backwards on the bed. “I don’t want to talk about templars or the Circle or mages or abominations for a while. I’ve had my fill.” She smiled a little when he leaned over to look her in the face. “I’m fine. I promise.”

He tilted his head as he hovered over her, his eyes slowly moving down her face and stopping at her lips. He stayed motionless for a second before moving back on the bed. “So,” his voice cracked a little. “I, ah…so…”

Eavan sat back up, her face flushed. “So? What do you have there?”

Alistair looked down at his hands, to the small, dried flower he was cradling and then back to her. “Something…for you.”

She looked back down at the small flower and then back to him. “For me?”

“It’s a rose. I…saw it in Lothering. One perfect flower. And I couldn’t…I couldn’t help but admire it. How beautiful it was amidst all of the darkness., all the chaos and ugliness.”

He handed it to her and she smiled, ran a finger over one petal. “It’s still so pretty.”

“I pressed it in a book. I wanted you to have it.”Her eyes met his and he smiled faintly, “You remind me of the flower. A beautiful and rare gift in the middle of all of this…the blight, the Arl, the Circle.”

“Alistair…” her voice was soft in the silence, “that’s lovely. Thank you.”

“I was thinking about how you’ve had none of the good parts about being a Warden. Just the death and darkspawn. And here I’ve been complaining and you…you just lead us. No matter how scared you are. No matter how often you want to run, you don’t. You stick with it, stick with me.”

She brushed a finger over the rose again and then placed it on the small table next to the bed. “I’ll treasure it always – the rose and your words.” She leaned forward to press a kiss to his cheek. 

He inhaled at the feeling of her lips on his skin, held himself still for a moment, and then caught her before she could move away. His eyes widened slightly, anticipation and fear mixing in them. Moving slowly, he tugged her down onto the bed and into his arms. 

“Alistair...” she murmured his name.

“Can I just hold you, Eavan? For a little while? Please?” Alistair's voice was hesitant. “I just want to hold you.”

Eavan closed her eyes and let herself relax against him. “I think,” she rolled over to look into his face, “I think that would be ok.”

He wrapped his arms around her and tucked her against his chest with her head under his chin. “You're so tiny compared to me. I'm not scaring you, right? I don't want to scare you.”

“No,” she smiled, wiggling so that she was comfortable against him. 'No, I'm not afraid of you, Alistair.”

“Good,” he sighed happily, “You feel nice here. I'm just going to rest for a few moments. Wake me if I fall asleep?”

“Alistair?” 

“Mmm?” His voice was sleepy.

“Thank you for the rose. And for, well, for everything.” She smiled when he simply mumbled against her hair. Wrapped in his arms Eavan thought that perhaps it would be ok if he stayed right there tonight. She felt like she could sleep and not dream. Like he was guarding her from everything bad in the world.


	12. Chapter 12

She had been wrong about the bed in the Spoiled Princess. The bed she had been given at Redcliff castle was amazing. The entire room was amazing. She walked slowly around the large space and touched the little knick-knacks with delicate fingers. It was all so elaborate, so ornate compared to what she was used to. She glanced over to the bed, to the dress that lay there, and frowned slightly. 

Dinner at Redcliff castle meant a dress – especially a dinner thanking her for saving Connor. She didn’t have a dress. Not for something as fancy as a dinner thrown in her honor by an Arlessa and a Bann. They had managed to find something that would work for her. It was long but the dress fastened with ties up the front and could be adjusted. The Arlessa had sent up a bath and asked if she wanted to borrow her maid. That had made Eavan blanch slightly. She had turned down the maid and the offer by Wynne and Leliana to help her dress. She was a grown woman. She could put on a dress.

***

An hour later and she was trying to not trip over the skirts on her way to the dining room. She had bathed, washed her hair, brushed her hair, and struggled into the dress. Even cinched tightly it was still a tiny bit big. Human women had more chest than she did. She had tugged on the laces till everything fit, more or less, tugged on her boots and headed down for dinner.

There was no way she could wear the shoes given to her.

Everybody was in the receiving hall. In fact, she was the last one down and that had her hovering just outside of the entry door. This was ridiculous. She had taken down an entire tower of slobbering abominations and blood mages. She had decimated a demon. She had brought down Uldred. She could handle dinner with a bunch of humans. She had manners. She knew how to smile. She could do this. Squaring her shoulders, she strode through the door.

“Eavan! I was just about to get you.” She watched Leliana approach her. “Well, I suppose the dress will have to do. If you had let me help you we could have solved this earlier.” She stood still as Leliana straightened the dress’ laces and fussed over the hem length. She felt like a child standing next to her, like a child who had gotten their festive dress dirty. “Are those…are you wearing your boots? With the dress?”

Eavan peered down at her feet and flushed, spreading the skirt out to cover the tips of her worn leather boots. “The shoes were too big. They fell off my feet.”

Leliana clucked her tongue and then grabbed her arm. “Come on, you need to say good evening to our hosts.”

Eavan tried to smile as Leliana pushed her toward Lady Isolde and Bann Teagan. Lady Isolde gave her a welcome smile. “Lady Eavan. We’re so glad you could join us.”

“It’s just Eavan. Please. Thank you for having me.” She flushed when Teagan took her hand and pressed a kiss to the back of it.

“You look lovely, Eavan.” The Bann smiled at her.

“Er, thank you Bann Teagan. You, ah, also look nice this evening.” Eavan was uncomfortable at being made the center of attention and mortified that the Bann had kissed her hand. She offered them a curtsy and then fled as fast as she could manage without look gauche. Finding a corner, she pressed her back to the wall and told herself to breath. _Breath Eavan. This isn’t the Arl of Denerim’s estate. There aren’t guards here to corral you in a room._ She watched everybody chatting, all human, or in the case of Sten bigger than a human, and all seemingly at ease with each other. Morrigan was managing to be social. Even Sten was talking to the knights. She looked for Alistair but her spot by the wall obscured a lot of the room from her gaze. When it was apparent nobody was going to come looking for her, she slipped away.

Alistair found her outside. He had been concerned when he hadn’t seen her come in. And when Leliana had told him what had happened with Teagan, well, he had panicked. Luckily, the guards had seen her leave through the front door. He had worried she had fled. But no, she was sitting with her back against the wall with Lucky next to her. He could see her knees tucked up against her chest, her arms holding them tightly, and her face pressed to her knees.

“Hey,” he kept his voice pitched low. He watched her start, her eyes wide in the shadows. “It's just me.” 

She turned her head, relaxing when she saw Alistair. “Alistair…” she sighed. “I…are they all looking for me.”

“I told them you had probably gotten lost. But…that’s not is it?” He watched her shake her head. He kept his movements slow, sliding down to sit next to her against the wall. After a moment, he tugged her onto his lap and she curled up against his chest. “Tell me.”

“Teagan kissed my hand.” Alistair made a soft noise at that, but said nothing. “I couldn’t handle all of them looking at me. All the eyes on me. I…couldn’t do it. Then I started panicking. And I couldn’t find you.” She hiccupped and sighed sadly. “Some leader I am.”

Alistair wrapped his hands around her shoulders and pushed her back so that he could look her in the eyes, “Eavan, I should have come and gotten you. After what you told me, I should have known that being paraded around a bunch of humans would make you uncomfortable.”

She shook her head, tears sliding down her cheeks. “I am a coward.”

“You are not. I saw you in the tower. I saw you go toe-to-toe with the Knight Commander. You really shook the templars. They were all afraid of you.” He smiled at her watery laugh. 

Eavan touched his lips with her fingertips. “Well, if I can quell a Knight Commander then I suppose I can handle Lady Isolde.” 

“Mm…I think so.” He tugged her back to him and pressed a kiss to her forehead. He inhaled softly when she angled her head up and pressed a kiss to his chin. It reminded him of last night, of waking up this morning wrapped around her. She hadn't yelled at him this time. No, she had smiled at him. She had hugged him tightly and kissed his chin. Like she had just done. Alistair cuddled her against his chest and wondered if they could stay out here instead of eating dinner. “You know, I'm not overly fond of fancy dinners either.”

She smothered a grin, “Oh?”

“I bet if we go to the kitchen I could beg some food and we could go hide in my room.”

“Alistair Therein, are you suggesting we avoid the fancy dinner being thrown in our honor?” Eavan's voice was part teasing and part hopeful.

“Well...when you put it that way...” Alistair sounded morose.

“How about you sit next to me at dinner and then I let you sneak into my room tonight.”

Alistair hugged her tightly, his eyes gleaming. “Eavan, you little sneak.”

She laughed. “Maybe I just sleep better with you near me. Deal?”

“If I get to hold you tonight, I suppose I can make it through dinner.” His smile was tender as he stood up, her still in his arms. He gave her a tight squeeze and then slowly lowered her to her feet. For a moment they stood wrapped up in each others arms, smiles on their faces. He leaned down and kissed her nose. “To dinner. Courage.”

She grabbed his hand and squeezed it. “With you next to me, I think I can take on an entire room full of Lady Isoldes.”

He laughed at that and pulled her in to dinner.


	13. Chapter 13

The new elf in the group made Alistair twitchy. It might have been because Zevran was an assassin sent to kill them, an Antivan Crow of all things. Or it might have been because Zevran was flirting with Eavan and she was laughing. Alistair’s eyes narrowed at the two of them, his left eye twitching slightly when the assassin touched Eavan’s shoulder. She didn’t pull away or flinch. No, she tossed him a smile. Alistair felt his insides twist up and knot. Perhaps she would prefer an elf to him. After all, Zevran wasn’t some bulky, clanky human. He was a lithe, graceful elf.

“Alistair, why are you frowning?” He looked up to see Wynne standing next to him.

“I…um. No reason.” He flushed and turned his gaze to the ground.

Wynne sighed and sat down next to him. “I’ve seen how you look at our leader, Alistair. I think perhaps you’re a little jealous of our newest companion.”

“He tried to kill us and she let him join the group. Why? How does that even work?” Alistair felt himself start to pout. Something about Wynne brought out every childish instinct he had. 

“Oh Alistair. She didn’t do it so that she could romance him. I’ve seen how she watches you. There is a lot of emotion in her eyes. And I’ve talked to her about it.”

“You…you talked to her about it? Me? You talked to her about me?” Alistair gaped at Wynne.

“I was concerned. Am concerned. She’s in a position of responsibility and I don’t want to see either of you hurt.” Wynna patted Alistair’s hand, her smile gentle. Something about the young man made Wynne feel very protective. 

“That’s…not any…I mean. How do I say this nicely? It’s none of your business!” 

Wynne laughed. “So she told me in so many words. I felt very put in my place. Oh, I know she didn’t mean to be short with me. Her face was pretty much like yours is now, all mottled and pink. You’ll have to forgive an old woman for being nosy.” 

“You’re not old, Wynne.” Alistair murmured as he watched her pat Zevran’s cheek. “She keeps touching him.”

“Hmm. He’s a very tactile person. Perhaps she’s enjoying the attention. It wouldn’t hurt if you staked your claim a little more forcefully, if you get my drift.”

“What? I’m not about to…do anything…forceful…”

“For Maker’s sake Alistair. Have you even kissed her yet?”

“Er…not exactly…on the lips?”

Wynne gave him a look, a look that clearly said he was an idiot. “Well then. I think we both know what needs to be done, hmm?” She gave his hand another pat and then stood up. “You’re a sweet man, Alistair, but sometimes a woman wants more than sweet.”

He watched her walk across the camp to join Eavan and Zevran. Eavan grinned up at her and then giggled at something Zevran said. She turned suddenly to look back at Alistair, her eyes meeting his. She smiled at him, her face open and happy. She tilted her head at his serious expression, her eyes turning quizzical. _Wynne’s right_ , he thought. _It might be time to take that next step forward with her_.

***

He waited until the camp had settled after dinner, waited for Eavan to finish talking to each person as was her habit at night. He knew she would eventually come join him at the fire, so he stayed patient and watched her chat with each of their companions. He admired her resolve to get to know each person that traveled with them. Not only did it seem to bind the entire camp together but it set her mind at ease about the people who had chosen to follow her.

Finally, she made her way to him. He waited till she was almost at his side before standing up. “Take a walk with me?” He held out his hand to her, waited for her to take it with hers.

“Where are we going? It’s all dark now.” She watched him with curious eyes.

“Just to the edge of camp. Are you alright with being in the dark with me?” He always worried he was going to scare her.

“You know I am.” She squeezed his hand. “Always so concerned about me.”

His response was to lead her away from the campfire and to a small grouping of bushes. They were in the shadows now, close enough to the camp to see the fire and tents but far enough way for a bit of privacy. She looked up at him and waited. “So,” he tried to not hesitate. Be decisive, Alistair, he thought. “All the chaos and traveling and new adventures we’ve been having are pretty exciting, huh? Are you going to miss it when the Blight is over?”

“Miss all of this…or miss you, Alistair?” Her voice was teasing.

“I know this sounds crazy. I mean, we’ve only known each other for what, a month or two? But in the middle of all the fighting and traveling and chaos I’ve really come to care for you, Eavan. And I was curious if you…felt the same way.” His heart raced in his chest and sweat bloomed on his forehead. He looked down at her with his heart clearly in his eyes, hope and fear stamped on his face.

Eavan bit her lip and looked up at him, up into his dear face, and nodded. For a moment she worried that she wouldn’t be able to answer him, then she found her voice and whispered “I do, Alistair. It scares me a little but yes, I do.”

Relief broke through him, washed away the doubts and fears that had been growing and multiplying in his mind. Gently, slowly, he drew her against him and tilted her head back. He simply looked at her for a moment, admired the shape of her lips, the curve of her cheek, the way her eyelashes fanned against her skin when she closed her eyes. And then he lowered his lips to hers in a tender kiss. He had worried that once he actually kissed her he would freeze and not know what to do, but the feeling of her lips against his encouraged him. And she opened to him, her lips parting to kiss him back. 

He tugged her down with him, settling her in his lap before kissing her again. He had thought through what he’d say and how he wanted to kiss her, but he hadn’t thought beyond that first press of lips. It seemed that one kiss wasn’t enough. He needed two or maybe ten…maybe more. So he settled them on the ground and gave in to the urge to kiss her again. This time his hands cupped her face, stroked her cheeks as he tasted her. He was surprised when her hands found their way into his hair and began tugging at it. He grinned down at her, chuckling when she reached for him again.

They stayed there for a while, exchanging shy kisses and cuddling. For a while, no words were said beyond soft murmurs. Finally, Eavan pressed a finger to his lips to stop him from continuing. “So…not that I’m going to complain, because I’m not going to, but what brought this on?”

Alistair kissed her finger before answering. “I was watching you and Zevran.”

“Ah.” She said it as if that answered every question she could possibly have.

“It occurred to me that I couldn’t expect you to not flirt with another man if I hadn’t made my intentions clear.” He watched her as he slid a finger over her cheek. “I am very serious about you, Eavan.” Her eyes grew big at his statement, bigger when he drew his finger back and over her ear from lobe to tip. Her cheeks flamed red at the touch and she squirmed in his lap. Alistair’s lips quirked into a half-smile and he did it again, stroking her ear lightly with his fingertip.

“Your intentions?” Her voice was breathy.

Alistair slid his hand into her hair and held her still as he kissed her again. _Really_ , he thought, _I could do this all night_. “To court you properly,” was his eventual response. “I know that I don’t have much experience…any experience…but I know that I want to be with you, Eavan. And that I care for you deeply.” After that declaration there wasn't anything else to say. He just bent to kiss her again, satisfied that she knew she had been caught.


	14. Chapter 14

"So, you and the big blond man, eh?” Eavan looked up as Zevran moved to walk next to her.

“What?”

“You and Alistair. You are an item, yes? A romantic duo?” Zevran's eyes were twinkling. He winked at her. “You can tell me all about it. I have a lot of experience with romance.”

Eavan couldn't help but laugh a bit. “Yes, Zev. Alistair and I. Why?”

“Why him?” Zev's face betrayed more curiosity than teasing. 

“Why him instead of an elf, you mean?” Eavan watched him closely. It had been a week since Zeveran had joined their group. A week since Alistair had staked his claim. She was still getting to know this new companion. He seemed so carefree most of the time and then the melancholy would pop-up. It made her wonder a bit.

“Why him in general. He seems a good enough man. Skilled with a sword, earnest, sweet.” Zevran watched Alistair walking at the front of the group, his eyes sliding down the blond man's back. “And he is very nice to look at.” Zevran slanted a look down at her. “Is that it? He is all muscle and attractive blond hair.”

Eavan had been watching Alistair walk and flushed at Zevran's grin. “Not really, no. His size was a bit off-putting at first, to be honest. So very…human…”

“Ahh. So why him, then?”

Eavan blew out a breath. “Because he respects me, he treats me as an equal. He's sweet and kind. Gentle. He would never...” she huffed a breath. “Never hurt, never take unless he asked…”

Zevran's eyes were sharp on her face. “Did somebody take you without asking, Eavan? Did they hurt you?” She was shocked to see anger etched on his face. “Is he still alive?”

“He's dead by my hand, Zev. He didn't...you know. But he did hurt me. And he did hurt my cousin.” She watched Zevran's hand clench reflexively before he could reign in his emotions. She reached out to touch his shoulder, sliding her hand down his arm to his hand, entwining her fingers with his. “I took his head.”

Zevran looked at her and nodded, squeezed her hand back. “Good. Because if not, I would have done it.” His eyes met hers once. “Nobody deserves to be hurt like that.”

***

Later, much later, once camp had been set up and dinner cleared, Alistair nabbed Eavan and pulled her away from everyone. It was becoming a habit for them. Once the camp was set, once everybody had settled for the evening, Alistair and Eavan would go off for some alone time. Straddling Alistair’s lap, her face pressed against his chest, she relaxed under the slow sweep of his hands.

“What were you and Zevran talking about?” Alistair asked idly as he pressed kisses against her hair and toyed with the hem of her tunic. 

“Mm...you at first. He was asking if we were together.”

Alistair's response was to turn her head and overwhelm her with a kiss. He was becoming more proficient with kissing. Every night, he grew a little bolder, a little more forward. It had started with one gentle kiss a week ago, but the kisses hadn't stayed gentle and innocent. He stroked her tongue with his, caressing her ear with long strokes of his fingers. He had learned that her ears were very sensitive, that she melted when he touched them. When he pulled back, her eyes were unfocused and she was panting slightly. “We're together.” he said it was such finality that she blinked.

“He asked why.” That made him smile a bit. 

“And?”

“I told him.” She shrugged. “He did ask though. He asked if I had been...hurt...by a human. Not in those words, but you know.” She watched Alistair nod his head. “He asked if I had killed the man. Said he would have finished the job if I hadn't.”

“Well I suppose I can see why we'd want an assassin in the group, then.” was Alistair's response. He watched her closely as he slipped fingers under the edge of her tunic to stroke along her lower back. “Not that I trust him.” 

Eaven shifted and let out a soft moan when he slid his entire hand under her tunic to rub along her bare back. Much like the kisses, every night saw Alistair try something new. Last night he had licked her neck until she had been a quivering puddle. She hadn't been able to sleep a wink after that, her body too wired to relax. His fingers teased down her spine and then dipped below the waist of her pants. She moaned again at the sensation and he grinned.

“I like it when you make that noise.” He whispered against her ear before he nipped her lobe. She gasped at the full-body tingles that caused. His chuckle made her grip his shoulders and he held her tightly against him as he began sucking on her neck. She wiggled in his hands, gasping his name. “Make the noise again.” he whispered against her neck. She couldn't help but moan when he licked the point of her ear. 

“You're...you're...I thought you didn't have any experience.” she panted.

He leaned back, admiring her flushed cheeks. “I spent several months around the other wardens. Believe me, they liked to talk.” He kept his eyes on hers and moved his hand that was under her shirt around to tickle her bare stomach. “And they liked to see how much they could make me blush. It may have made me blush, but I was listening.”

She wiggled, giggling as his fingers teased over her stomach. Then she inhaled sharply when he dragged his hand up and over her breastband. Her nipples hardened at the sudden contact and he spent a few minutes just rubbing lightly over her breasts before pulling his hand free and tugging her against his chest. “Am I going too fast?”

She shook her head. “Ah...no. No. What?” 

He grinned. “Can I ask a favor?”

“Now?” her voice creaked and he laughed. 

“When we get to Denerim. Can we go visit somebody?”

“Somebody? Who?”

“My...” Alistair brushed her hair back from her face, his expression serious. “My sister. She lives in Denerim. Can we visit her? I've never had the chance and with the Blight...I mean...I'd understand if you said no...”

“Of course we can visit her. Don't be daft. Maybe we can take a quick trip into the Alienage as well. See my father.”

“I don't deserve you. Thank you.” Alistair leaned forward to kiss her again. “Think we should head back?”

Eavan looked up at the sky, gauging the time. “Ten more minutes?” 

His eyes gleamed and he tugged her against him, his hands slipping back under her tunic to play over her back. “Ten more minutes.”


	15. Chapter 15

They were nearing Denerim. Each step brought back another memory, another fear, another hope to Eavan. She had the irrational fear that the entire Alienage had forgotten her the moment she had been conscripted. That since she was now a Warden, she no longer belonged to the elves, to the Alienage, that she was now somehow tainted by more than just the darkspawn blood. She glanced over at Alistair and then trained her eyes on the horizon. Alistair presented another problem. He was human. And it was, generally, not accepted to dally with a human.

She had to admit that perhaps the term “dally” wasn’t quite what she was doing with Alistair. Her face pinked a bit at her thoughts. Every night was a step closer to…something…with him. She had a feeling they were headed towards sleeping together, and she didn’t mean actually sleeping. He was getting bolder. He had asked her that tonight, when they camped, if she could not wear her breastband. His face had been bright red when he asked, and he had fumbled a bit, but his eyes…oh his eyes. They had been heated on her face. And despite the blushing and stuttering, he had worn a very smirky smile. And when she had nodded, her eyes wide, he had brushed her lips with his thumb and then turned away to take down his tent. It as if he was two men. One who was hesitant and sweet and just as inexperienced as she was and one who was slowly seducing her with practiced touches and words. 

Eavan had some experience with men. Well, not extensive experience. She had flirted and kissed when she was younger. But then she had became marriageable and she hadn’t wanted to disappoint her father. No matter her own thoughts on the matter, she had respected her father. So she had refrained from anything too serious. And then…Nelaros. She was going to have to tell Alistair about him, about her engagement. About his death. Her impressions were all she had left of him. That and the ring. She remembered a handsome man with a kind smile. She hadn’t even gotten to kiss him. It made her sad, made her question herself. 

Alistair must have sensed her melancholy because he reached out and took her hand in his. She glanced down at their entwined fingers. It was so natural with him now. Even the size of his hands failed to upset her. Instead, they made her feel cherished and safe. He gave her hand a squeeze and she looked up into his face. “You ok?” his voice swirled around her.

“Just…thinking about home.”

He squeezed her hand again. “And?”

“I’m scared. Of what I will find. Of what I’ve left behind. That they will have forgotten me.”

“Forgotten you? You? Eavan Tabris? You’re the most remarkable woman I’ve ever met. I doubt they’ve forgotten you.”

“I hope not…”

***

“Tell me.” He was propped on his side, hand holding his head up. His other hand rubbed circles over her cotton-covered stomach. “Tell me what is bothering you.”

Eavan gazed up at him. She was lying back in the grass and feeling vulnerable: she knew she should tell him about Nelaros. Alistair hovered over her, his body pressed against her side. She squirmed slightly at the brushes of his hand, stilling when he pressed his hand flat on her stomach. She just shook her head.

“Eavan. Tell me.” His brushed his lips over her cheek, her nose, her lips. “What is it?”

“I…Alistair.” She swallowed and closed her eyes. “Ok. The other elf that came to rescue me? His name was Nelaros. He was my fiancé.”

Alistair stilled at that. “You were engaged?”

“In the Alienage, our marriages are arranged. It’s to get new blood in and spread around talents. My father had gone to the matchmaker and they matched me with Nelaros. I had just met him that morning. And he came for me and died. I saw them kill him.” Tears glimmered in her eyes.

Alistair brushed away the tears with his fingers. “I see…” 

“I wanted you to know. It doesn’t mean that anything has changed but…I…you…” She reached for him, tugged him down to kiss him. He settled over her, careful to keep his full weight off of her. He let her control the kiss, her mouth moving almost desperately against his. When she broke the kiss he moved back and feathered his fingers up her neck to cup her cheek.

“Eavan. I’m glad you told me. I’m sorry he’s gone and I’m sorry you had to see his death.” He smiled slightly. “I suppose this is payback for the King’s bastard son thing. Waiting to tell me something this important.”

“I suppose so, Your Majesty.” Her voice was a little watery, a little teasing. 

He screwed his face up in a mock scowl. “Ah. Teasing. I will have to punish this most harshly.” He watched her giggle at him and then he lowered his head to press a kiss to the tip of one cotton-covered breast. Her sudden inhale only encouraged him and he drew the tip into his mouth to suckle. Maker, he thought, he had been wanting to do this to her. Her admission made him want to brand her his, strip her bare and mark every inch of her skin so that it was apparent she was taken. Was his. 

He rolled over onto his back and tugged her on top of him so he could see her. Her tunic clung to her breasts, the tongue-damp fabric showing off her nipples. He slid his hands up her sides to cup her, his thumbs rubbing circles over the sensitive tips. She moaned his name, an encouragement, and rubbed herself over his stomach. He could feel her heat through her pants and his shirt. He watched her writhe over him as he toyed with her breasts. He never slid his hands under her tunic, didn’t touch her anywhere else, and he never broke eye-contact. He watched her lose control, watched her eyes darken until they were nearly black, watched them narrow and then fly open when she gasped in shock and shuddered with pleasure. She collapsed over his chest and he cuddled her to him. He shifted a little, his erection pressing tightly against his smalls. 

“Alistair…” she whispered against his neck. “I…”

He rolled them over so he could spoon with her. “Shh.” He wasn’t ready for words. He wasn’t ready to move them past the sweet stage of exploration. He knew that eventually he would have to make a decision about taking her completely. He just wasn’t sure if it was right to do it in a tent during a Blight. He squeezed her closer to him. He was in love with her and he wanted everything he did with her and to her to be special.


	16. Chapter 16

Denerim hadn’t changed much. Eavan didn’t know why she had expected it to have changed in her absence. The market place was still filled with people hawking wares, children still ran willy-nilly through the crowds. There were still sisters singing the Chant outside of the Chantry. The only change she had noticed was a lack of elves, and she figured she could find out why easy enough.

Once she had calmed Alistair down. 

His meeting with his sister hadn’t gone well. Goldanna was a…well, if Eavan was being honest with herself she’d say a bitch. She didn’t want to tell Alistair that. Though judging by his face, he was currently thinking it.

“I just can’t believe her attitude. It felt like all she wanted was money.” Alistair was teetering between outrage and sadness. “I can’t believe I asked to see her.”

“You couldn’t have known she would be so…grabby.” Eavan soothed, her hands smoothing up and down his arms.

“But…she’s family. Does family act like that? Is that normal?”

Eavan blew out a breath and tried to articulate in a nice way what she felt like he needed to hear. “Sometimes. Family isn’t always sunshine and roses. And even though you two are blood related, I don’t know if I’d say you are family. The truth is, Alistair, most people are only interested in what they want. They don’t care about you or me or anybody else. It helps to remember that, to remember that sometimes it’s ok to be a little selfish. I don’t mean like Goldanna. But if you want a family, you shouldn’t wait around for somebody to show up. Make a family for yourself. You need to stand up for yourself, for your wants and dreams. Nobody else will do it for you.” Eavan winced a bit at his expression. 

“Hmm.” Was his response. “Speaking of family, want to go see yours? Are they nicer?”

“Yes. Though my father can lecture like an elder.” Eavan slipped her hand into his and shot him a half-smile. 

“Think he’ll like me?” Alistair smoothed his other hand over his hair. “I am a human.”

“You’re mine. He’ll be happy that I’m happy.” She went to walk forward and found herself being pulled back against Alistair instead.

“Yours, huh?” He squeezed her hand and grinned down at her. “That’s…I like that.”

***

“What do you mean the Alienage is closed?” Tension vibrated in Eavan’s voice. “How can it be closed?”

“There was a riot. The Arl closed the Alienage due to the continued unrest. If things don’t quiet down I’m afraid we’ll have to conduct a purge.” The guard eyed Eaven with a critical eye. “Why you asking?”

Eavan wobbled. “I’m from the Alienage. That’s home.”

“I wouldn’t be saying that out-loud, lovey. Some of the guards would throw you in the dungeon rather than deal with it. Lucky for you, I’m not inclined to bother myself. Now go away like a good knife-ear.” He made a shooing motion at her and returned to leaning against the wall.

Alistair moved to confront the guard and Eavan grabbed his hand and shook her head. “Let’s just…go find rooms.”

“You want rooms with an elf I’d go to the Pearl. By the hour and they won’t look twice at your choice of companionship. The Gnawed Noble doesn’t take kindly to gents bringing their knife-eared tarts in for a tumble.” The guard shrugged at Alistair. 

Eavan watched Alistair’s face turn three shades of red. “No…Alistair. No. Not here. He’ll just arrest us. Come on. It’s ok…I’m used to it.”

Alistair clenched his fists and then gathered her against him. “I’m alright. Stop fretting. I won’t hit him…now. Let’s just go get rooms for the night. I don’t think either of us are up for dealing with the urn quest tonight.” Alistair shot the guard another glaring look and gently lead her away.

***

Alistair had opted to stay at the Gnawed Noble Tavern. They did have rooms for let and he found it rather ironic that he, the kid who used to sleep in the stables with the dogs, would be staying at the Tavern most frequented by the nobility. Eavan hadn't cared. She had been a pile of strain and stress since the confrontation with the guard outside of the Alienage.

He had been thinking a lot about what Eavan had said. It made sense, the need to think for himself, to be a little selfish. Other people seemed to have a handle on that - on the entire live-for-yourself deal. Alistair had never thought he could have that, have a life just for himself. It was a heady thought. He knew he wanted Eavan, knew that being with an elf would have consequences - ones he was willing to handle. 

It was with these thoughts swirling in his head that he made the room arrangements. He wanted Eavan with him. He wanted to wake up with her in his arms. The tavern and his companions could hang. He was going to get his way in this.


	17. Chapter 17

“I just don’t trust him. He seemed…squirrelly.” Eavan frowned at the door of the house the group was standing in front of. “Did he seem squirrelly to anybody else?”

The group looked at each other and then Zev raised his hand, “I thought he was hiding something, my dove. He was nervous. What? We assassins are trained to recognize such things.”

Eavan rolled her eyes at the endearment but let it slide. She caught Alistair’s eye and watched him frown at Zev for a moment. He worked to re-school his features into something less petulant, and she shook her head. “I’m going back in there to confront him. We need this Urn of Ashes or dust…or…whatever…for the Arl.”

“The Urn of Sacred Ashes.” Leliana murmured in awe.

“Right. That. I’m going back in there. Feel free to join me.” Eavan straightened her helmet and strode back through the door. The rest of the group exchanged looks and followed her in.

What happened next was almost a comedy routine. The man had widened his eyes and waved his arms around. Eavan had prodded him in the chest. The man had prodded her back. Eavan had stood on her tiptoes and poked him higher on the chest and stormed off towards the back room. The man had grabbed her arm and then thrown his hands in the air in disgust. Right before he could cast a spell, Eavan had gutted him. The group had stood there in shock as she shrugged. “He was a lying shem,” was all she said before she marched to the back room.

They had found a body and a chest filled with the good Brother Genitivi’s notes. Notes that gave them direction to this Urn that would supposedly heal the Arl. Pulling out the map, Alistair found the place spoken of in the notes. Eavan had asked him to show her where Denerim was. She had snorted in annoyance when she realized they would have to trek across the entirety of Ferelden to get to the Urn. “Never near our location,” was what she muttered. “Let’s gather the group and make camp outside the city. I need to think about how to approach this.” The group had exchanged another look and nodded.

***

“Two weeks?” Eavan looked at Alistair with a cranky look.

“Well, probably closer to three...but yes. To get to this Haven. A good two or three weeks.” He watched Eavan rub at her face and start to pace. “What's bothering you?”

“Nothing, why?” She didn't stop moving. She made a circuit around the fire, her eyes on the toes of her boots. “Why do you ask?”

“You're irritable. Cranky. In fact, you seem quite angry.” He went to her and stopped her forward motion by stepping in front of her and grabbing at her arms. “I mean...unless it's...I've heard that women...” suddenly Alistair seemed a little unsure.

Eavan's lips twitched. “No. Not that. I guess...Denerim.”

That made him nod. “Speaking of Denerim. I want to thank you. For what you said to me. I've been thinking about it, and you're right, I really do need to start looking out for myself more. There is no reason why I should let other people make decisions for me.”

“Oh?” her voice was casually, “So do you want to take over as leader, then?”

Alistair's face went waxy pale, “Oh no. You can't foist that on me. I refuse. Refuse!” Her laugh had him sputtering. “Oh you tease. I don't want to lead, no.” He watched her. “Is this about the Alienage or what that guard said?”

Eavan turned away from him and scuffed at the ground with the toe of her boot. “Both. Sort of. More about what the guard said,” she mumbled. “The Alienage being locked down isn't too unusual, sadly.” She glanced back at him. “Do you mind?”

“Mind?” He went to her and pulled her back against his chest, his chin resting on her head. “Mind what?”

“That I'm an elf?” His chuckle jostled her and she twisted around to look up into his face. “I'm serious. Do you mind? You do know we can never...marry...or anything. Right? No Chantry in Ferelden would condone that.”

“Eavan. If I can't marry you, I'll just stay with you. You being an elf only matters when somebody else makes it matter. Otherwise, well, I'll just have to be careful to not crush you.” He slid a finger down her neck, his eyes warming. “And you're beautiful and wonderful, and I love your ears.” He watched her pink at the complements and grew serious. “Eavan. I...I love you. Have I told you that before? I do. I've fallen for you. I don't care if you're an elf or if we can marry. I love _you_.”

She sniffled a bit, rubbed at her eyes. “You do?”

“Mm...I do. Love you, that is. Do you think, perhaps, you could ever feel the same way about me?”

She huffed out a laugh and wrapped her arms around him. “Yes. I think you have won me over with your charms.” Leaning her head against his chest, she relaxed against him. “Love you back,” she whispered against him. His response was to tighten the hug and let out a happy sigh.


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Steam chapter ahead. Be warned!

“That was...terrible”. Eavan shared a look with Alistair. “Horrifyingly bad. What possessed us to come here?”

Alistair's grin was teasing, “You.”

Eavan pouted. “Well, I mean, poor Levi Dryden. His grandmother.” Her eyes grew comically big, “She was just...talking...and her skin was falling off of her.” Eavan made hand motions around her body and then shook her head. “That was terrible.”

Alistair laughed and tugged her to him. “You're adorable. You would do it all over again, I know you would. Levi would give you that hang-dogged look and you'd cave. You, my love, are a softy.” She smacked his arm and wiggled against him. That made Alistair clutch her closer to him and bury his face in her neck. “Mm...we haven't set up camp yet. You need to quit riling me up.”

“I'm not riling anything. We're not even out of the courtyard. Put me down.” She squealed slightly when he nipped at her ear. “Oh heavens. Here comes Zev. Put me down, Alistair! Put me...oh...Zev. Hi.”

“My dove. You appear to be...tied up...with our hulking templar friend. Do you two perhaps need some help? Or some instruction?” Zev offer an innocent smile. He watched Eavan's ears flush crimson and chuckled. “How about I instruct our crew to, ah, make camp at the base of the mountain, yes?” 

Eavan wiggled until Alistair set her down with a put-upon look. “Yes. Yes for the love of all things, go tell the group to make camp. And stop leering. Stop...oh bother. What is it?”

“You know, my dearest Eavan. You seem delightfully...innocent...in the ways of courtship. As does your handsome sidekick. I would be more than happy to give advice. Or even demonstrations.” He bit back his laughter at both of their faces. “No? Well, consider my offer. I shall go rally the troops.”

Eavan watched him saunter off, turning to see Alistair making a confused face. “Sidekick? I'm a sidekick?”

“Well...I am the leader...” Eavan laughed when he started pouting. “Anyway, I suppose we should head down to where we are camping.”

“Eavan...wait. I want to...I want to ask you something.” He watched her stop and turn to him, her face open and happy for once. The teasing had relaxed her, he realized. He wondered how much of that had been Zev's idea and how much was just happenstance. “Look, before we rejoin the group I just...I want to...say...argh! You'd think this would be easier! But when I think about this it feels like my head swells up and my tongue tries to strangle me!”

Eavan bit her lip and furrowed her brow. “Ok...um....hmm...”

“Look. I want to spend the night with you. Not sleep next to you or hold you. I want to spend the night...with you. I know that asking for our first night to be in a tent out here with the group isn't...romantic. And I had thought about asking when we were in Denerim but I lost my nerve and you were upset. And I...don't want to wait anymore. I don't. We just don't know what could happen tomorrow, you know? I...want to make every second with you count.”

Eavan had flushed during his speech, her eyes widening at his suggestion. She thought about all the times he'd held her, the kisses, the caresses, the declaration of love and came to the conclusion that she wanted what he did. She moved to him and covered his mouth with her hand to stem the flow of anxious babble now issuing from him. “Alistair. I'd love to spend the night with you.”

He grabbed her hand in his, holding her still as he traced a pattern on her palm with his tongue. His eyes heated at the little gasp she gave. Pressing a soft kiss to the damp skin, he lowered her hand and gazed down at her. “I know that I don't have much experience...any experience...but there are things that I've heard about. Read about...that I want to try with you...not all at once. Maker, we'd need time. And less people...” He flushed a deep red. “My point is, I have plans Eavan. And I hope you...I hope you trust me.”

“I do, Alistair. I love you.” His smile made her toes curl. “So, ah, we should...head to camp. And put your tent...my tent...the tent someplace...away from everybody? Yes?” She tugged at him to follow her. “Maybe near the treeline. Or in the treeline. Or not near Zevran's tent. Let's just not look at Zev. Let's just...oh my.” She was pulled back against Alistair. He dipped his head and captured her lips in a kiss. “Oh...”

“Relax. We'll go slow. I promise.” He kissed her nose. “But I agree. Let's not set up the tent near Zev's. I think he might just...yell advice...or do pantomimes with the firelight. It would be…horrifying.” With a slight chuckle, he pulled Eavan down to the camp site.

***

Alistair had to hand it to Zevran, he was a sneaky, sneaky elf. He had set up Eavan’s tent a little ways away from the group, just outside of the firelight and set back against a rock facing. It wasn’t secluded, but it wasn’t next to anybody else either. When they had joined the rest of the group he had just winked at Alistair and offered him a teasing grin. Alistair wasn’t sure how to feel about that. He supposed he should feel grateful.

Dinner had been torture. They group had wanted to talk about what had happened at the peak and then Levi had started telling stories. There was no way Alistair was going to drag Eavan off mid-story so he was stuck sitting next to her and trying to pay attention to the group and not to how she smelled, how the firelight danced over her hair, or how soft her skin looked. It was pure torture.

But gradually the group broke up, the dishes were handled, and firewood was stacked near the fire for the evening. He waited till the group had scattered before taking her hand and pulling her up, his heart pounding in his chest. She looked just as terrified and excited as he did, her hand trembling slightly in his grasp. Was he actually going to go through with this? His mind gibbered a bit at the thought of Eavan naked, Eavan naked and under him, Eavan moaning naked and under him. He gave himself a slight shake and led her to the tent.

“So…” he whispered as he settled down on the blankets that had been laid out. “Are you ok?”

She nodded, her eyes on him. “Are you?”

“I’m….yes. Yes.” He gave a slight laugh and tugged her to him. For a moment they were a tangle of limbs but then he had her on his lap and his lips were moving over hers and everything just…settled. Became easy. It was easy to slide his lips down her neck, to nip at her pulse, to suckle at her collarbone. It was just natural to slide his hands under her tunic and up to cup her breasts, to tease at her nipples until she was making the most amazing noises. When he tugged her tunic off of her and he finally saw her breasts, saw her naked from the waist up, it just seemed right to lay her back and move over her to press kisses over the tender skin, to lap at her nipples, to suckle at her till she squirmed and moaned his name. 

And then she was tugging at his shirt, running her hands over his naked chest. She moved up on her elbows to lick a line from his neck down and press kisses over his own nipples. The feeling of her lips made his groin tighten and made his cock throb mercilessly in his smalls. He stopped her then, worried that he would come in his pants, and pressed her back and returned to kissing her. But the feeling of her breasts rubbing against his naked chest was driving him insane and he didn’t stay kissing her for very long. 

He tugged at the laces on her pants, batting her hands away when they reached to help. He muttered curses under his breath when he knotted the cord and then grumbled when she took over. Watching her shimmy out of her pants and smalls was…arousing. Her breasts bounced and teased at him till he bit his knuckle and closed his eyes, trying to find his control. When she was finally naked, lying back on the blanket with nothing between them but the dimness of the tent, he thought for sure he had died. She was beautiful and she was his and there and…his brain shut off.

He cupped a hand over her, feeling her slick heat against his palm, slid two fingers into her wetness, and watched her hips arch off the blankets as he rubbed and toyed with her. Her curls fascinated him, her smell intoxicating, and he found himself lying between her spread thighs, his fingers parting her lips so he could look at her, and then tentatively taste her. Maker, the noise she made when his tongue swiped up her heat made him blush, made him abandon that for another time.

Instead, he wrestled with his own pants, finally ripping them off his hips. He heard her sharp inhale when she saw him naked and he worried that maybe he was scaring her. But then one of her hands was there, touching his hip. Then his sack. Then…and he started reciting the Chant at about this point…his cock. Her small hand glided down his length and he bucked into her grip and that had been that. He practically pounced on her, pinned her down and with a fierce look of concentration, slid between her thighs.

There was a brief moment of confusion as to how the entire deal worked…she was tight and he was very aroused and larger than he felt he should be for her…so his first thrust resulted in a shocked cry of pain and him practically leaping from her. She wrapped her legs around him, held him close, and rubbed against him until they both relaxed. And then he tried again. Short thrust, hold still, short thrust, hold still…till he was buried in her heat and shaking like he had palsy. She lay panting under him, her body clenching and relaxing and driving him absolutely mad. He pulled back slowly, waited till she nodded, and then thrust forward and…

Well…he supposed it was only natural that he wouldn’t last very long for his first time. He started to apologize, to roll off and perhaps hide his face, when Eavan arched her hips and made a soft noise as she rubbed against him. He watched her for a moment and then slid back to his knees and dragged his hand down her to tease at her clit. She panted at that, called his name in increasingly louder whispers until she gasped and came, thrashed and moaned his name and he suddenly felt like perhaps, perhaps this had gone better than he had hoped.

He washed her gently, removed the little smears of blood and him, before he tucked them both under the blankets with his arms around her and her body curled tightly against him. She nuzzled against him with sleepy, happy noises and just feeling her there against him, naked and relaxed, made him relax. “I love you,” he whispered against her hair. He smiled when she mumbled “love you too,” a second before her breathing evened out.


	19. Chapter 19

Alistair’s eyes snapped open when he felt Eavan’s tongue on his thigh. Unsure of what to do he stayed still, his eyes screwing shut again at the feeling of her breath ghosting over his hardening cock. There was a moment of hesitation, he could feel her fingers tapping gently against his hip, and then her mouth wrapped around the head and he just about jumped in the air. He clapped his hands over his mouth to keep from yelling and gazed at her in shock. 

She had sat back at his sudden noise and was looking a little embarrassed. “Ahh...Morning…” She offered him a lopsided smile and reached for him, her fingers trailing down his length. 

“What? What?” Alistair babbled slightly. She giggled at the look on his face. “What was that?”

“Well…I didn’t want to be completely ignorant before we lay together. And when it became apparent that we were headed in that direction, I talked to Leliana.”

“You talked to Leliana…” he goggled her at her, falling back to the blanket at her shove. “What?”

“Yes. And she gave me some…pointers. Just…shh…” She went back to examining his erection and then dipped her head again to take him in her mouth. 

_Maker_ , he thought. _Oh Maker, please don’t let me embarrass myself or hurt her or anything,_ Alistair prayed frantically as her warm, wet mouth slid part way down his length. He whimpered when she suckled on him, his hips bucking against her. When she hummed he bit his hand. 

She pulled back to admire him. “You are very pretty, Alistair.”

“I’m pretty?” He blinked at her before reaching for her. “I’m pretty?” With a quick motion, he pulled her to him and then rolled them over. “You’re the pretty one.”

Her giggles turned to gasps and moans as he took the opportunity to nuzzle at her breasts and lick her nipples. “Evil woman, evil tricksy woman learning things from the other evil tricksy women,” he muttered as he worked his way down her body. He settled between her thighs, his hands holding her open. “Don’t move,” he muttered to her and he released her thighs to spread her open for him.

“Alistair…” her voice was hesitant…

“Shh. I tried this last night and you didn’t say anything, but you did make this noise…” he swiped his tongue up her slit and smiled when she whimpered his name. “Close.” He pondered her for a moment before licking delicately at her clit. Her little moans encouraged him and he began to taste her with quick tongue flicks. He experimented with speed and touch, his fingers tickling along her thighs and then sliding under her to lift her hips. When he fit his mouth completely against her mound and slid his tongue into her, she screamed his name and shuddered. He let her come down from the high of pleasure before sitting back, a pleased look on his face. “That was the noise.” He chuckled as he wiped his chin and slid up her body, slid into her slowly. “Am I hurting you?”

“Nnn…” she shook her head, her eyes nearly crossed. He laughed a little at her expression, delighted that he could make her lose the ability to speak. He rocked against her, working to draw out his own pleasure and not simply pound into her like a…well…virgin. She clenched him, though, tight and hot and each gliding thrust pushed him to go faster, to tilt her hips a bit so that he could plunge deeper, till he had her legs pressed to her chest as he rode her fast and hard. The minute her hands brushed over his shoulders he stiffened and spilled himself into her. His shout was shockingly loud and he looked mildly chagrined as he shuddered over her.

Her giggles made him laugh. “Oh well,” he gasped. “So much for being discreet.”

From outside of the tent they heard a “Finally! Good job!” and then a smack and an “Ow! What was that for, dearheart? Come back and let us talk. Leliana, I was just offering encouragement.”

Eavan covered her mouth as she burst into wheezing laughter at the sound of Zevran and Leliana arguing. Alistair grumbled. “They are going to gossip and tease us.”

She laughed again and wiggled her hips under him, making him groan. “They do it too much and I’ll feed them to the Archdemon.”

He growled and pressed down with his hips, trapping hers against the blanket, “See…that’s one reason why I love you. So practical. Now…I wonder if I can make you moan my name again before we get dragged out of the tent. Let’s see shall we…” He offered her a wicked smile before slipping down her body again.


	20. Chapter 20

“You know, my dove, I am more than willing to offer you tips.” Zevran had pulled up alongside her and was humming a wicked tune. “Anything for my favorite Warden.”

“Uh-huh. Just being oh-so-helpful, Zev?” She glanced at him and noticed his smile. “What?”

“You, dear Warden, are a treasure. Does he treasure you?” He took her hand, laced their fingers. She smiled at the gesture. “Does he worship you?”

“Hmm…why the questions, Zev? What’s bothering you?”

“How do you know I’m not simply being nosy?” His tone was teasing but his eyes were serious.

“Because you aren’t, Zev. What is it?”

“I worry. He is a human, yes? And a King’s bastard? Leliana is incapable of keeping quiet.” He glanced down at her, “And you are an elf.”

“And he will end up hurting me? Is that it?”

“Infatuation and lust are delightful games, Eavan. But if he pursues the throne he will find himself surrounded by many eligible human women. Will you be content to be nothing more than a mistress, if he keeps you as such? A conquest and toy to amuse him? You must think of these things, my dove.”

They walked silently for a while, hands still joined. She looked back at Alistair, saw him eyeing her hand in Zev’s, and offered him a smile. He responded with a raised eyebrow. She shook her head and squeezed Zev’s hand tightly. “Putting him on the throne might be necessary, Zev. My happiness has always been secondary to what is needed. I…gave up the right to a happy life when I killed that Shem, you know that.”

“I do not dispute that your duty is a hard one, my dove. But you are always worthy of happiness. You deserve it. ” He glanced at her. “Will you be able to handle it? Handle the storm that will come with you two being together?”

“If I want him to stay with me, I suppose I will have to. I love him, Zev.” Her eyes met Zev’s and for a moment, there wasn’t anything either of them could say.

“You are very brave, my dove,” was his response.

***

The conversation stayed with her. Even after Zevran had switched back to teasing it stayed. It stayed as they traveled the rest of the afternoon. She worried over her options and then finally, let them be. It was premature to think that Alistair would need to rule. They needed to revive the Arl and then finish gathering allies, needed to end the Blight. Who would sit on the throne of Ferelden could wait.

But still she worried. Would he grow tired of her? Would he wish for more? A spouse, perhaps? An equal? Would it matter? They were both Wardens and both destined to not live to old age. Was she borrowing trouble? She fretted as she walked. 

By nightfall she was an emotional mess, and Alistair had noticed. He went to her as she was fussing with her tent and gently took the tent stakes from her hands “You don’t need those, Eavan.”

“I…” she looked up at him with shadowed eyes. 

“Come on. I think we need to talk.”

He sounded so…serious. And worried. She worried because he sounded worried. Was it already beginning? Was he regretting her? Them? As she followed him she caught Zev’s eyes and he frowned at what he saw on her face. 

Alistair gently pushed her into his tent and then closed the flap, tying it shut. “Alright. What did he say that got you all upset?”

“Who?” Eaven curled up on Alistair’s blankets and fought the urge to bury her face in them. 

“Zevran. He was walking with you this morning. Holding your hand, I might add. And then you were quiet all afternoon. Quiet and sad. Why?” Alistair didn’t go to her like she had expected him to. Instead he stayed by the flap and just looked at her. His face was flat, unreadable, surprisingly stern and harsh. It made her shiver a little to look at.

“I…us. We talked about you and I.” Her voice faltered and she scrunched back away from him when he crawled toward her. “About the reality of our relationship.”

Alistair kept moving till he had her cornered against the back of the tent. He loomed over her for a second and her eyes widened in alarm. Tugging her against him, he sighed and settled back. “Let me guess. Leliana gossiped about my father and being a royal bastard.” He watched Eavan nod and continued, “And you’re an elf and I’m the bastard prince. Which obviously means I’ll be using you and discarding you?” Eavan shrugged a little. “That’s …the most ridiculous thing I’ve heard in a while.”

“What if you take the throne?” Eavan’s voice was low and sad. “I would be an embarrassment.”

“Eavan Tabris. If I ever took the throne and anybody dared to tell me I had to leave you I’d…” He thought for a moment, “Punch them. In the face. If for some Maker-damned reason I do have to…to…become King, well, I will refuse to give you up.”

“I’d be your mistress…you’d have to get married.”

Alistair snorted. “I’d like to see them try. They can throw all the pretty girls at me they want. None would be you.”

“An heir?” Eavan mumbled.

“Can be gotten somewhere else. Look, we’ll save Arl Eamon . Then we’ll deal with the Blight. And after that? Well…I don’t know. Right now, I do know that I want you. I want to be with you. Last night was…it was amazing. I love you, Eavan.”

He tilted her face up to his and kissed her, his lips warm against hers. She relaxed into him, against him. Nothing was certain in this mad quest they were on. They could die at any time. The Blight could overtake them all. But this, she thought, this was a certainty. She loved him. She did. So she kissed him back with all the love and fear and want she had in her. She held him against her and thought Zevran was wrong about this. He would never abandon her.


	21. Chapter 21

_“How could you? How could you? You left me. Left me to be used and discarded and now him. HIM! How COULD you, Eavan?”_ The echoes of the dream reverberated in her ears and she gasped as she fumbled awake. She could still see Shianni on the ground, bloodied and beaten at the feet of her attackers, condemning her for falling in love with a human. Eavan shuddered as the sibilant whispers of the Archdemon wove themselves into the remembered screams of her cousin. Gripping her head in her hands, she sobbed.

And found herself pulled into a warm embrace. Alistair tucked her against his chest, ran his hands over her back, and whispered softly to her. Nonsense words, words of love, words that spoke of passion and caring and hope. She grabbed at the sound of his voice and clung to him as she rode out the last of the dream, the shards of betrayal and hatred slowly melting in the face of Alistair. 

“Tell me.” He brushed a hand over her hair. 

“Shianni.” She said as she rubbed her cheek against his chest. “She was yelling at me.”

“About?” He had his suspicions, but waited for her to tell him.

“You. Being with a human.” Eavan’s eyes welled with tears and she sputtered as she talked, “She was so mad, so mad that I had let her get hurt. So mad that I would fall in love with…with…” she dissolved into crying, heartbreakingly sad tears that made his heart clench. 

“Shhh…” he rocked her. He had wondered, wondered if their love would bring her past back to haunt her. It wasn’t surprising, even if it did make him hurt. He wondered if she would ever heal from the trauma caused by the Arl of Denerim’s son. Could she? Or was she destined to go through life reliving that moment, the moment she found her cousin with her abusers, the moment she took their lives. A moment that had forever changed her, he thought. Damaged her, made her question herself and every emotion. But also the moment that had led her to him. He tightened his arms around her and held her as she cried.

She finally sniffled, her tears drying and her breathing easing. “I’m…I’m sorry. I can’t imagine it feels good to know about that dream…”

“It hurts, I’ll admit it. But I’m not surprised. I had expected this, to be honest. Maybe not this soon but I had expected it. I wish I could help, could put your mind at ease.”

Her eyes widened, “You…you are always so…so…” She wrapped herself around him tightly and pressed kisses over his face. “The sweetest, most loving, most accepting…man…”

He chuckled at her, rolled them both over and pinned her down. “And you love me?” He asked, his tone only half-teasing.

“I love you. I do, Alistair.”

It was enough for him. It would, he thought, always be enough.

***

The morning found them curled together, Eavan sprawled across his chest with her arms wrapped around him and Alistair holding her close to him as if he could keep her from ever getting away. The soft wuff of Lucky outside their tent woke them. Eavan lifted her head, yawned, and offered Alistair a shy smile, “Morning…”

He responded with a mumble, tugging her down for a sleepy kiss. “Mmm…” was all he got out. 

He was, she thought, an absolute gift. A little bit of refuge in the scary wide world. With broad shoulders and big hands, tall and strong, able to shield her from the worst that life could throw at her. She thought that maybe Nelaros would have been like that. A solid man, a good man, a man who would have cherished her and their marriage even as he stood ready to guard her. She was sad that she would never know how it would have been, would never know what kind of children they would have or how he would look in old age. That world was lost to her. Now that she was able to fully appreciate the simplicity and delight found in a normal life, it was too late to have it. Her life was no longer simple, normal. And she…she could never return to it. But she could have this, could have Alistair. 

His eyes finally opened and he caught her watching him. “You ok?”

“I…am. Yes. I am. I was thinking about the things I had to give up or that were taken from me.” She wiggled out of his grip and sat up, straddled his waist so that she could look fully into his face. “Nelaros, children, old age…”

Alistair winced a bit, wrapped his hands around her hips and rubbed gentle circles over her hipbones. “I know. I’m sorry for that. Sorry I can’t give you that.”

She smiled slightly, toyed with his chest hair. “You can’t give me that, no. But you can give me love and friendship and joy and happiness.” She inhaled slightly when his hands tightened over her hips, “passion…”

His laugh curled through her and suddenly she realized she was wet, aroused. He noticed, saw her nipples tighten and her eyes darken and laughed again, this time a little lower, a little rougher. “Is it enough, Eavan? Am I enough for you?” He slid her over his stomach, let her heat settle over his hardening cock, and watched her. “Am I?”

Her nod made him arch up against her, the broad head of his arousal teasing at her entrance. “Say it, Eavan.”

“Yes…” she whispered, her hands flattening on his chest as he lifted her hips and slowly slid into her. “Alistair…” her voice breathy.

His response was to release her hips and tug her down and into a kiss, to lick at her lips and whisper to her to move, to moan into her mouth when she rocked over him. His hands were everywhere: her breasts, her hips, gripping her ass, teasing her between her legs. He touched her everywhere as she moved over him. His voice was a constant thread as she rocked and thrust above him, commanding her to moan, to say his name, to move faster, to come…and she did, her back arching, his name a chant, as she shuddered and writhed and gasped. When he came he tugged her down to kiss at her lips and bite her neck, hold her close till he finished his own shudders and gasping.

Holding him, feeling his chest heave under her, hearing him whisper his love for her in her ear, Eavan’s heart settled. She settled, relaxed, accepted that this was her life. This was her love. She hadn’t had a choice about the Wardens, about the taint, but in this she still had choices, could choose to love him. And it was simple and lovely and right…

It was right.


	22. Chapter 22

Eavan opened her eyes and came back to herself against a tree. She was curled in a ball, her head resting on her knees, her face tear-streaked and itchy with grime. Her shoulder screamed a bit, an arrow having grazed it during the fight, and her head swam and throbbed. But she was otherwise unharmed physically.

Emotionally she was a shell.

The man lay at the top of the small rise, dead and gutted by some Bann’s piggish men. She had killed the men, gladly ended their lives because she had recognized the man they had attacked. King Cailan’s man, a man she had talked to back before the hell of Ostagar. A man who had whispered to her of King Cailan’s chest and a key and papers before he died.

The shock of the fight had been too much for her. Too much remembered, too much felt. Ostagar. Duncan. Ser Jory. Daveth. And always…always sitting in her mind…Shianni. She had run, had fled the group in terror as the fight had ended, as the man had died in her arms. His lifeblood had stained her hands and she had dropped him, had shot Alistair a horrified look, and then fled. 

Her flight had been short but brutal. She had slid down the hill, had hit a rock part way down and tumbled. Her head had hit the very tree she was curled up against. She could hear Alistair and Zev calling for her. Their voices were frantic, Alistair’s filled with a fear she hadn’t heard since the days after Ostagar. She stirred and tried to stand, her legs giving out and stars flashing before her eyes.

“I’m…here. I’m here.” She tried to yell. It came out a garbled whisper so she tried again. “Here!” She got out.

Zevran heard her and came crashing down the hill. Skidding to a stop, he took in her disheveled clothing, her bloodied shoulder, her dilated eyes. He called up the hill “I have her.” And then picked her up with surprisingly strong arms and began walking up the hill.

They refused to let her walk back to camp. Zevran hadn't been willing to part with her at first. He had held her tightly to his chest and ignored Alistair. Grim faced and eyes hard he had strode ahead of Alistair and Wynne, his arms a vise grip around her. Finally, when it appeared he was going to try to carry her all the way to camp, she stopped him. 

“Zev...Zev? You need to let Alistair have me. He's going insane.”

“My dove, I failed you. You ran and could have been killed. I should have...”

“What? Should have what, Zev? I didn't run from the fight. I ran from the memories. From the pain. I was a coward.” she slumped his arms and fought off a wave of nausea caused by the head wound. “I just...ran...”

“That man. You knew him, yes?”

“He fought with us at Ostagar. The place we were betrayed. Where Duncan died. I almost died there.”

He was quiet for a moment. “And Alistair was there? This Duncan, he is the one you mention sometimes?”

“He's the one who saved me, Zev. Made me a Warden. He saved Alistair, too. He was our Commander. My friend...even if I didn't know him for long.”

Zev stopped walking and hugged her tightly. “I do not understand everything. Your feelings. My feelings. But...I feel about you like how you speak about this Duncan. Please, dove, do not run again. It would hurt me too much if you did.”

His admission made her hug him tightly. “It's hard, isn't it? To suddenly find yourself with...friends. People who you actually want to be around?”

He laughed a little and pressed a kiss to her cheek, “You understand so much sometimes. Yes, it is hard. I will give you back to your strapping Warden now...before he tries to gut me. Maybe...” for once his face was uncertain, shy, “maybe sometime we may talk about this?”

“I would like that, Zev.” she touched his cheek. Smiled at him when he turned to Alistair and slowly transferred her to his arms. “Thank you, Zev. For finding me.”

“I would hate to lose you, dove.” Was his response before he went to go walk with Wynne. Eavan watched him start to tease Wynne. “He is...”

Alistair looked down at her, “Not what you expected?”

She laughed softly and then winced, “You could say that. I'm sorry, Alistair. Sorry I scared you.”

“I thought I had lost you, Eavan. I thought you had decided to run away.”

“I was trying to. The tree stopped me.” she burrowed her face against his chest and relaxed into his safe embrace. “It was...so sudden. This need to just not be here. To flee. To hide.”

“Are we going to go back to Ostagar?” Alistair's voice was filled with fear and determination. “I think we need to go.”

Eavan bit her lip. “I know. We can't let the filth plunder Cailan's things. We must give him a proper burial. But...Ostagar...”

“We'll bring Wynne.”

“And Zevran,” she said. “He would feel slighted if I didn't take him.”

“I feel like I should be jealous of you two. You are so close to him. Would you prefer him to me? He's experienced and an elf.”

“And you're acting like an ass, Alistair. No I wouldn't prefer him. No...I want you. I thought we had...you know...I thought what we did proved that.” Her blush heated her cheeks and ears. “I love you.”

His smile was heartfelt. “Let's get you back to camp so Wynne can heal you. I think, fearless leader, that we should spend an extra day camped here. You will need the rest.”

“I need the rest or you just want to confine me to my tent?” Her voice was teasing, her expression relaxing.

“Maybe both.” He said with a laugh.


	23. Chapter 23

Wynne had declared that she needed more than just one extra day’s rest. The concussion combined with the blood loss had made Wynne order her to bed and to stay there for at least two days. Maybe three. Eavan had grumbled and complained and all Wynne had done was cross her arms, tap her foot, and tell Eavan she was acting like a child. Finally, Alistair had intervened and told Wynne he would make sure Eavan stayed in bed.

In the end, they compromised. Alistair carted her from their tent to the fire during the day and then back to the tent at night. And provided she stayed on her blankets in front of the fire, she was allowed to relax with her companions instead of in the tent. At first, this had resulted in Wynne hovering over her like a jailor and Alistair growling slightly when anybody tried to talk to her, but as she grew crankier and crankier they finally let her be. Wynne would only mildly hover, and even then just to cast the occasional spell or tuck her blankets tighter around her with gentle hands and soft pats. Alistair practiced his sword work, cleaned his armor, and gave her space during the day. At night, he held her tightly and worried he’d find her gone in the morning.

Zevran took it upon himself to sit near her, always within touching distance. They didn’t speak, not about their conversation or about feelings. Instead, he sat there and sharpened his knives, oiled his leathers, hummed to himself or teased their companions. Morrigan surprised Eavan with a long visit the first afternoon. She shooed Alistair and Wynne away and then sat with her as she read from her mother’s book. Slowly, they started talking. Slowly, they drew out stories about each other. And slowly it became apparent to Eavan that Morrigan, for all her crankiness, was lonely. She resolved to spend more time speaking with the woman instead of cowering from her. Leliana took it upon herself to sing quietly and tell stories when the camp became quiet. The second day, when Eavan’s headache had eased, she brushed out her hair. The soothing strokes lulled Eavan into a nap, her head pillowed on the bard’s lap as Leliana hummed a soft tune and toyed with her hair. Eavan woke with Leliana snoozing behind her and Zevran curled against her side fast asleep. Alistair gave her a look, shook his head, and sat down on her other side to hold her hand. 

The biggest surprise, for Eavan, was Sten. She had been sure he would lecture her, would be disappointed in her. But that second evening he sat down next to her and gave Zevran and Alistair a look that had both men leaving her be. He looked Eavan in the eyes and nodded slowly. “It is hard to come to terms with loss on the field. I…miss my friends.”

The quiet hesitation in his eyes, the slight confusion from the confession, had Eavan inching a hand out to touch his. “It was like a knife in my heart, seeing that man. Remembering…Ostagar…” 

Sten looked down at her small fingers touching him. “You fear me. I wasn’t sure if it was cowardice when we first met. But now…I wonder…I have seen courage in you, Eavan Tabris.”

She licked her lips, her mouth drying at his words. “I had…have…a fear of men in armor. From…”

Sten shook his head, “You do not have to explain. I can imagine well enough. I was wrong about you, Eavan. Wrong to judge you so. You lead us with conviction. I would tell of your deeds to my own people, if I ever returned home.”

“Why can’t you? Why did you even come here?” 

“The Arishok asked “What is the blight,” And so we came to find his answer.”

“And when will you return to tell him about the blight?”

“Never. I can never go home. Not since I lost my sword. My soul. Even if I could travel back alone I would be slain on sight, known as soulless. No soldier would return alive without his sword.” Sten flexed his hands as if in remembrance of the heft and weight of his sword. 

“We could look for it. Where did you fall? Where was the last place you had it?”

“Lake Calenhad. I do not think to ever see it again. Still, your offer it is…appreciated. Rest now, rest and heal so that we can stop the Blight.” He laid a heavy hand on her shoulder and for a moment, his eyes warmed. Then he was striding off and Eavan was left confused, conflicted, but strangely at peace.

***

That night, curled in their tent, Alistair asked Eavan about her talk with Sten. “What did he want? You looked confused and pleased, not scared.”

“He told me he admired me and that he understood my fear. It was…amazing.” She touched Alistair’s lips with her fingertips, a brief affectionate brush that had him smiling at her. “Then he told me he had lost his sword and could never go home.”

Alistair watched her chew on her lower lips. “You’re thinking of looking for it.”

“Yes…he scared me so badly when I first met him. But that wasn’t his fault. I should have gotten to know him. Instead I assumed he’d be like all the other tall, scary men. And that was wrong of me.” 

“Well then, we should go look for Sten’s sword. Where did he last have it?”

“Lake Calenhad. We’ll be passing near there. We can take a look, right?” Her eyes pleaded with him to say yes.

“You’re the leader, Eavan. We’ll go where you tell us to.” He chuckled at her.

She made a face, “Even after I tried to run away? Why would you all still follow me?”

He rolled her over and pinned her to the blanket. Nuzzling against her neck, he sighed, “Because we trust you. Because everybody has a moment of weakness. Because you’re honest about it. Because we all love you. Or could you not tell that?” His lips traveled up her neck to her ear. “I love you. More than anything.”

“Oh…well…” she gasped when he nipped at the tip of her ear. “I suppose we’ll go to Lake Calenhad.”

He chuckled and pressed a kiss to her nose. Sobering slightly, he gazed into her eyes, “Promise me you won’t run again. Promise me, Eavan. No matter how hard, we are here for you. I am here for you. Promise me you’ll stay with me.”

She looked into his eyes, saw his fears, his worries, his love for her and nodded, “I promise. No more running. No matter how hard. No matter how painful. We’ll get this done.”

“No matter what, Eavan. I’m with you.” His voice wove the promise between them. She prayed to the Maker that she was strong enough to keep it.


	24. Chapter 24

Lake Calenhad hadn't changed much since Eavan's last visit. Well, the templar wasn't been sitting out on the docks. That was an improvement. The tower, however, still rose in the middle of the lake – a silent spectre that seemed to loom over the surrounding area with a quiet menace.

The sword had not been there. A squirrelly little man digging through refuse, though, had been there. Eavan had watched the man sift through the dirt with shaking fingers and felt...pity. It was an unusual sensation to feel towards a human of any kind. Even the dregs had it better than the elves, at least in her opinion. But seeing a man wearing little more than rags rifle through the dirt and dust, well, it brought back memories of the alienage.

Made her think that perhaps humanity was a right bastard towards more than just the elves.

With Sten at her back, it hadn't taken much more than few sentences to find out the sword wasn't there. The man had bought the site ...a concept that had Eavan glancing at Alistair with confusion...to plunder and the person he had bought the site from had double-crossed him. The entire area had already been picked clean and the original scavenger gone. 

To Orzammar and the Dwarves.

Eavan had sent the group in to the Spoiled Princess to get rooms for the night and then had given the man a few silver. She had handed the coins to the man with a quiet “get some food with this and then find shelter.” The man's eyes had teared up at that and he had grasped her hand and thanked her profusely. She had waited for him to say “you are generous for an elf,” but he didn't. He just said, “Maker smile upon you, m'lady. Thank you” and had limped off.

And it stayed with her. The dirt and grime-covered face of the older man, his starting-to-gnarl hands digging in the dirt for treasure to sell. His thin frame clothed in only tattered scraps. Humans were supposed to be better off than the elves. Not living like them. It made her wonder how many other wrong preconceptions she had about humans.

She certainly had had them about Alistair. She had had them about Sten. About a lot of people she had met. Maybe it was time to let go of the old prejudices and admit that people could be good and human and bad and elves. 

Joining the group in the tavern, she patted Sten's hand gently, “I promise, Sten, we'll track down this guy. We can go to Orzammar from here. It isn't that far, right Alistair?”

“We can go there if you like. Do you plan on doing recruitment as well? We might as well do it now. Otherwise we'll have to backtrack.”

“Do you think the Arl will be ok?” Eavan looked at Alistair with worry.

“I don't know...” He took her hand and gave it a squeeze.

“Do not concern yourselves,” Sten started to say, “I can...”

“No, I promised to help you and I'm going to Sten. I can do this. We can do this. You need your sword and we'll get it back for you. It's what friends do.” Eavan smiled up at the big warrior. 

Sten stared at her for a moment, something flickering in his violet eyes. “It was what comrades-in-arms would do, yes. I thank you, Eavan. You have proven to be more than you seem. I am...grateful.”

Eavan beamed at him. “Then it's settled. We'll get some rest here tonight and head out for Orzammar in the morning.”

***

“First time in a bed...” Alistair tugged Eavan to him. “I plan on using our time wisely.”

She strained against him as he started licking her ear. “Alistair...oh...” she whimpered. “You're...”

“Mm. Yes? I'm what?” He bit down on her earlobe. “Make the sound for me, love.”

She moaned his name, dug her fingers into his shoulders and moaned with each nibble and lick. She was panting by the time he released her. “I love the noises you make.” His eyes on her, he cupped a breast and squeezed. “I love you.”

“I love you too...you incorrigible man.” She danced away from him and started pulling of her clothes. When he lunged at her she dodged and tossed her shirt at him, laughing. “You have to catch me first.”

Alistair grinned, happy to see her happy. He watched her with narrowed eyes as she tugged down her pants. When she had them just about off, he lunged. She dropped to the ground and rolled, came up with her pants in her hands and laughed at him. He growled at her and started crowding her back towards the wall. 

Left. Right. Left. Left. She tried to dodge around him, but his long arms caged her in till he had her pressed against the wall with his chest. He lifted her and pined her against the wall and kissed her soundly. She clung to him, dug her fingers into his hair and tugged. 

Holding her against him, he carried her to the bed and turned her, draped her over the edge. He took a minute to admire her sleek form, her rounded buttocks, the lean lines of her back. His hand cupped her buttocks, squeezed gently, and then he smacked her lightly. She giggled and wiggled at him, tossed him a laughing look over her shoulder, “Ooo...have I been bad?”

Alistair chuckled and spanked her again, “Maybe. Or maybe Zev's been talking again. I honestly think I would prefer to be inside of you than hitting you.” He spread her thighs and cupped her, dragged his fingers through her curls to press and rub at her clit. Her sudden inhale was satisfying. He rubbed at her, watched her rub back against his hand. He lifted her, “Kneel on the bed for me, love.” 

_Maker_ , he thought as she followed his orders. She was spread open for him like this, her sex wet and swollen and pink, begging. He gave in to temptation and pressed his face to her, held her hips in a firm grip and thrust his tongue into her. From behind like this, he could easily lick her. He tilted her hips a bit more and lapped at her clit, teased her, worked her till she was sobbing into the bed.

He practically ripped his pants off of him. He was so hard, so ready for her. And she was making little panting noises, her hand having found its way to between her thighs as he had undressed. He watched her fingers rub at herself and he bit his lip at the flair of want. Batting her hands away he knelt behind her and seated himself with one, sure thrust.

The feeling of her closing around him, the sight of her kneeling before him, the angle of his thrust...it was nearly too much. He tried to not take her fast but it was hard. So hard. Especially when she moved back against him, bounced against his groin with each thrust.

She came, wailed his name, clenched his cock tightly. His grip was bruising as he thrust once, twice and then came with her. It took every last bit of strength to not fall on her. Instead he landed next to her and dragged her back against him. She cuddled there, turned to press kisses over his chin.

“You are...”

“Big?” He offered with a grin.

“Amazing.” she breathed. “Amazing.”

He flushed. “So are you. I think I can sleep now...no dreams…”

“Mmm” was her response. 

He laughed a little and tugged up the blankets and held her till he drifted to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Feel free to visit me on Tumblr under Warriormaggie


	25. Chapter 25

Eavan gazed with undisguised amazement at the mountains around her. Snow-capped, craggy, and massive, they towered over her. Made her feel very small, very tiny. She looked back down the pass they had traversed to reach the Orzammar gates and thought that perhaps she didn't want to have to walk that again right away. She glanced at Sten and then back to the squirrely man currently twitching in front of her. “Where did you say the sword is?”

“Redcliff. A dwarf named Dwynn bought it. I swear. I swear!” he bleated at Sten. 

Sten glowered at the man, “It is not me you should fear. It is her. She leads me.” He folded his massive arms over his chest and stared at the man impassively. 

Eavan watched the man's eyes land on her, “But she's a knife-ear!” That was enough to have her dagger in her hand and to his neck, the move smooth and whip-fast. The man's eye's bugged, “I...I...I...” he babbled.

“I’m the leader here,” Eavan hissed. “Tell me the sword is safe with Dwynn and I'll let you go.”

“It is, I swear! On the Maker I swear!” the man drooped and Alistair moved to pull Eavan back. 

“Alright. He's been cowed. What should we do?”

Eavan growled. “Redcliff is South of here. I don't want to head back till we have the Ashes. And we're here. Sten, would you be amenable to waiting? We can get some recruitment done and then get the Ashes.”

“I have survived this long without my sword, I can wait. That you have even pursued this is...beyond anything I could have expected. I am with you, Warden. Even if it means going into caves and dealing with such...cowards.” Sten gave her a nod and then blinked when she took his hand to squeeze it. “You...do not need to...”

“You are very gracious Sten, thank you. Let's go get the dwarves handled so we can get those Ashes and your sword.”

Alistair watched her give Sten's hand one more squeeze and move towards the gate. He watched the big man look at his hand and then at Eavan, his face a mixture of confusion, respect, and cautious affection. Only Eavan could befriend a Qunari and give him hand-squeezes, thought Alistair.

***

Eavan glared at the stone statues as if each of them were responsible for the current situation. “This is...unbelievable. Is the entire country falling apart?” She growled slightly and gazed up at the high ceiling above her. “I don't want to deal with this.”

“It was nice of you to not kill all of Loghain's men.” Leliana offered.

Eavan snorted slightly, “I only left that one alive so he could go tell that...that...SHEM that we were coming for him. He called me a traitor and a foreigner...and a knife-ear. I was BORN in Denerim.” She glowered slightly and then sighed. “Let's go find out what exactly is happening. Anybody else feel like we're about to be dragged into horrible Dwarven politics?”

All of her companions pondered and then raised their hands. Eavan snorted again. Morrigan shrugged, “Couldn't be worse than the tower.”

“Oh, now that's reassuring, thank you Morrigan.”

“I live to help.” was the response.

***

“Son of a....it's worse than the tower,” muttered Morrigan. She shared a look with Eavan. “Does this mean we are staying?”

“Yes. We need allies. Unfortunately that means staying.” Eavan rubbed at her forehead. “I'm going to go talk to the representatives, get a feel for these guys. Alistair, Sten and Zev with me. Wynne, I need you, Leliana and Morrigan to find us lodgings. Preferably not here in the Diamond Quarter. I don't want to be surrounded by nobles – makes me twitchy. Take Lucky with you.”

“Where will we meet?” Leliana accepted a pouch of coins from Eavan.

“There's a tavern apparently – Tapsters. We'll meet there.” Eavan watched everybody nod. “Wish us luck.”

“Don't kill anybody,” was Wynne's reponse.

Eavan shrugged as they left, “No promises.”

“Why did you want us three with you?” Zev asked as he checked his daggers.

“Because nothing says I mean business like three well-armored and armed men standing behind me doing what I say. It gives me more status, sadly. Wynne would have been a good choice as well. Morrigan might set somebody on fire. Leliana isn't intimidating enough. I need intimidation and you three are it.” Eavan offered the men a smile.

“So we are your muscle?” Alistair asked, his lips twitching. Eavan hummed a bit and started walking towards Harrowmont's estate. “I think she's enjoying this,” Alistair said in a slightly shocked voice to Sten and Zevran.

“Good,” Zev responded with a grin, “About time she realized our potential. I, for one, have no problems standing behind her and looking intimidating.”

Sten pulled out his two-handed sword and shouldered it, “I will gladly offer my presence to fix this...mess. The sooner we fix this the sooner I get my sword back.”

Eavan heard them talking and straightened a bit more at the compliments. She looked over her shoulder and met Alistair's eyes. He smiled at her, beamed. Well, she thought, this group was pulling together to follow an elf. Shianni would be proud, she thought. Proud.


	26. Chapter 26

“So, you hate them both?” Wynne watched Eavan take a deep gulp of ale. “Are they both terrible?”

“Harrowmont is slightly more honorable, but a coward. You can't have a coward rule. Plus, he's ok with the idea of casteless. That's like...that's like being ok with selling elves or the alienage.” Eavan frowned into her ale. “Bhelen is a liar and most likely killed his father. But he's going to marry a casteless and wants to get rid of the castes. I'm stuck between a coward and a murderer.” She shook her head.

“So what are you going to do?” Alistair asked as he frowned into his own mug.

“As much as he's slimy, I'm going to support Bhelen. Did you see where the poor dwarves live? They brand them as babies so that they can ignore them! Brand babies! It's...we don't even do that to the elves!”

“No, our ears give us away,” muttered Zev.

Eavan snorted at that, “If I thought it would be prudent, I'd kill the lot of them. But we need them. No, I'll put Bhelen on the throne in exchange for him helping us defeat the Blight.”

“Harrowmont seems nicer.” murmured Leliana.

“It's not about being nice,” Eavan said firmly. “It's about leadership. It's about being strong enough to lead. It's about somebody who sees the problems and will do something to fix them – even if it means killing a few people. Maker knows, I'd clean house in Denerim if I could. Change isn't done through niceness, Leliana.”

“It should be,” she said on a sigh. “But I trust your instincts. “

“Terrifying thought,” Eavan said on a laugh, “But when you have two bad choices you go with the choice that seems less bad. Come on, let's get some rest. Tomorrow is looking to be busy.”

***

“You were amazing today,” Alistair said as he drew her against his chest. “Amazing.”

“I was?” She let him cuddle her, settled against his body with a deep sigh. 

“You were. You are becoming so strong Eavan. What's changed?” He lifted her in his arms and carried her to the bed. 

“You. You changed me. Sten changed me. Zev....Wynne...Leliana...Morrigan...all of you. You don't look at me like I'm nothing. You listen, you hear me. You see me. It's...I've never...” She touched his face before he set her down. “You love me. ME.”

“Of course I do, Eavan. How could I not? You've done nothing but be there for me. I've never had that. Never had anybody who listened to me or cared what I thought.” He settled her on the bed and joined her. “You were my friend.”

“Were?” 

“Are. My friend...my lover. And I know you'll find a way to stop the Blight. I know you'll find a way to stop Loghain.”

Eavan stared up at the ceiling, “I have no experience. I'm just bumbling around making the best decisions I can. Is it enough? What if I choose wrong? All these problems. The choices. They are so hard, so...life changing. I am being asked to help put a dwarf on the throne. And Alistair...you do realize that when we stop Loghain, I'll be stuck doing this again.”

He sighed. “And what? You'll ask me.”

“Yes. Yes I would. You're a good man, Alistair. You can lead. You can make decisions. You see people and understand. You're not part of the old nobility. You would be a good king.”

“I would lose you if I took the throne. I couldn't marry you.” He covered his face with his hands. 

She leaned over him, braced herself on his chest, “You wouldn't have to lose me. I could...I love you...I could be what you needed me to be.”

“A mistress? A...paramour? How is that respectful?” Alistair gazed at her.

“You're saying you would turn the throne down for me? That's...not right. I am not worth that...or worthy of that.”

“I swear to you, Eavan. If I have to take the throne you will not be a dirty secret. You will be my beloved. Even if I can't marry you I would respect you and you would get respect. If you stay with me, I swear it.” He gripped her shoulders tightly. “Do you understand? I wouldn't agree to marry, I would find an heir someplace else. You would be by my side as much as I could manage it.”

She bit her lip, her eyes tearing, “Don't make promises....”

“No Eavan. If I have to do this...if Eamon...if something happens and I am needed, I swear this to you. I will not put you aside. Promise me you wouldn't leave me. Promise me, Eavan.” He shook her slightly, and in his eyes she saw the command there, his seriousness.

“Already giving orders, Your Majesty,” she murmured, “I promise. If you must take the throne, I swear to stay with you. However that happens. Perhaps...perhaps it won't be necessary.”

Alistair wrapped her in his arms and held her close, “Nothing could make me ever leave you, Eavan. Not the Blight, not Ferelden's politics, not Arl Eamon...not even death.”


	27. Chapter 27

She took a step forward and looked back at the group of Dwarves. Before her yawned the open passage to the Deep Roads. Behind her stood the knot of dwarven guards. She closed her eyes, felt the press of stone, the weight of the world above her. She smelled damp, moss, and a slight decaying odor. Straightening her shoulders, she strode into the dark.

It wasn't a true dark. Lichen glowed, lava sputtered, and small fires burned. She watched the stone waiver in the gloom, most of it solid with small splotches of blight sickness. Even near Orzammar, the darkspawn rot could be seen. Graceful Dwarven archecture arched overhead and crumbled around them. So far, it had been quiet. So far, there hadn't been any darkspawn.

But gradually, they made their way far enough in for her to feel the first chitters in her brain. It itched, chattered, nattered, buzzed in the back of her mind. She shared a look with Alistair and he nodded. He could hear them too. A non-stop awareness that made her want to pull her hair. The gloom pressed around her, held her down. The chattering filled her mind. The rot filled her nose. She had to stop, had to take a moment to breath and remind herself that she wasn't dead.

Because being in the Deep Roads felt like death to her. The rot, the quiet, the dim glow...it was like being dead and yet not. She knew this was what waited for her in thirty odd years. This place...this existence...to fade away. To become nothing more than a blight-stricken creature or to fight till a darkspawn got in a lucky strike. To bleed out here, under this rock, in this gloom...alone...forgotten. This was her future, this was what a Warden had waiting for them. 

She hadn't realized she had started crying until Alistair moved to her. She buried her face in his chest and clung to him. It would happen to him too, she realized. Her big, golden, wonderful love would one day fade and have to come here to die. Would it happen before her? Would she be left alone with the growing nightmares? She clung to him harder. 

“Shh...shh...Eavan...”

“Alistair,” she gasped. 

“I know, I feel it too. This place. I don't...”

“Promise me you will not go on your Calling without me. Promise me you won't leave me alone to face this. Promise me!” she was frantic, shaking and sobbing. “You can't...I can't...”

“I swear, Eavan. I won't leave you. We'll go together. Together.” she moaned a bit at that and he picked her up, ignored their companions as he cuddled her. “Shh...I know. I know.”

“They are in my mind, Alistair. In my mind. Calling. Calling. The sweet call...the voice...” she sobbed against his neck. “The taint...”

“You need to calm down. If we can hear them, they can sense us.”

She nodded and tried to calm herself, come to terms with it. “I never....this....”

“Overwhelming,” murmured Alistair. “The entire place is. I feel it too. Will you be ok?”

“Yeah. I guess I just needed to get it out.” She squirmed a bit, “Are you holding me?”

“You needed it!” he grinned. 

“But Sten and Zev...they aren't...oh!” She worried at him, squirmed more.

“They don't think any less of you for needing this. Do you guys? It's creepy down here. Everybody is creeped out. It's...not a nice place.”

“Alistair is correct. You needed a moment. And while I do not understand everything you said, I can appreciate the unpleasantness of this place.” Zevran turned to look at some blight sickness, giving her a moment to settle herself.

“The Deep Roads are meant to be taken seriously.” nodded Sten, “That you can admit to your fears is admirable. You must now master them.”

Eavan nodded. “You're right Sten. We came here for a reason. It wouldn't do to go running away. I'm a Warden and it's important that I finish this mission. Thank you. And you, Zev.”

“Being a leader doesn't mean handling it all on your own.” Sten said before he went to check out the end of the current road they were on.

Eavan watched him walk away with wide eyes, “He never fails to amaze me.” 

“He believes in you, Eavan. You proved to him that you're worth following.” Alistair put her down with a quick squeeze, “You've proven it to all of us.”

Zevran nodded, “You are our leader, Eavan. We would follow you anywhere. More importantly, you're our friend. It means a lot to all of us that you would even think of being friends. Most leaders...don't.” 

“Well...I'm not most leaders,” was all Eavan could think to say. “Let's get this over with and get back. I don't want to spend too many nights wandering around in this...ugliness...”


	28. Chapter 28

Eavan stared hard at the Bhelen. The dwarf offered her a smarmy smile. “You got me the votes, but I need more. I need Jarvia taken care of.” He crossed his arms over his chest as he smirked at Eavan, “Do this and I am one step closer to the throne.”

Violence flared briefly in Eavan’s eyes, just long enough to have Bhelen taking a step back and his bodyguard to shift. “I’ll do this because the Blight is real. And because you will help the casteless. But don’t think for a moment that I don’t see behind your smiles and promises. You cross me once, Bhelen, and they will find nothing but a river of blood in this place. I’ve taken care of Shem worse than you.” She gave his bodyguard a hard stare and stomped from the room.

Alistair rubbed the back of his neck, nodded to Bhelen, and went after Eavan. Sten and Zevran just shared a grim smile, also gave the guard a hard stare, and leisurely meandered after their commander.

Alistair caught up with her just outside of the palace. She was standing still, staring at the lava, eyes vacant. He moved slowly to her and wrapped his arms around her. “Eavan, love?” he murmured against her hair, “Are you there?”

“I hate this place. I hate him. He’s no better than the noble-born Shems in Denerim. Just…shorter.” She fought with herself for a moment and then relaxed against Alistair. “I made a fool of myself.”

“No, you showed admirable restraint in not knifing him. You’re very scary. He was starting to second-guess his bating when you left. He probably had to change his pants.”

“Even his guard looked disturbed, my dove. I must say, your intimidation techniques have improved.” Zevran added in an amused tone. He smoothed her hair and winked at Alistair.

“He is a coward who hides behind more worthy men,” was all Sten said.

“Well, I suppose we will be going after this Carta boss. This is going to throw the casteless into disarray. The Carta is probably their only source of employment. Other than prostitution.” Eavan frowned at that thought. “Let’s bring a bag of silver with us. We can make sure the ones who aren’t working for the Carta at least have the coin for bread. Then we’ll clean house.”

“You softy,” Alistair said on a laugh. “I love you.”

“Am not a softy,” Eavan muttered. “But I do love you.”

***

Standing over the corpse of Jarvia, Eavan had to question what she was doing. She had cleared out the tunnels filled with Carta. Almost every member was branded casteless, reinforcing her belief that this was their only way to grab power. She had come into the caves wielding both daggers and had left a trail of blood and death. Her men had fought well, all of them covered in the blood of dwarves who had been deemed at birth not worthy of any recognition.

Meeting Jarvia had been explosive. The woman reminded Eavan of herself in a lot of ways. Willing to ignore the system. Willing to spit in the eye of every Maker-dammed nobleman who ever dared to look at her wrong. Killing her had burned something in Eavan. This woman was more leader than any of the dwarves vying for the throne. But branded, she became less than the stones under Eavan’s feet.

The fight had been brutal and quick. She had told the guys to handle Jarvia’s guards. She would take Jarvia herself. It had been a whirlwind fight of knives and cunning. Eavan only won because she was a hair faster and because she knew the fate of Ferelden rested on her shoulders. But this had been no victory. Not for Eavan. This had been a colossal waste.

And it was all because some nobleman needed the political cache to get on the throne. No, Eavan didn’t celebrate this win. She mourned it.

***

Eavan’s eyes were narrowed on Bhelen’s face. The dwarf shifted slightly, one eye twitching with anxiety, as he watched her. It was the only tell that the man was nervous. Bhelen was stoic otherwise. “I must have a Paragon’s blessing or I won’t be able to take the throne. If you want my support you will find Branka and bring her back.”

“You said that about Jarvia.” Eavan eyed Bhelen, her gaze flitting around the room to count guards before landing back on the now sweating dwarf. “You lie to me?”

“No! No. The council appreciates your help. But if you want a King, we need to break the stalemate. Branka can do that. I have maps, information. You’re a Warden. What’s a trip to the Deep Roads to you? A walk in the park. Unless,” And his eyes grew canny, “You can’t do it. How do I know you can fix the Blight?”

Eavan’s hand flexed over her dagger once. Just once. She felt her muscles tense and then relax, her face smoothing out. “Well now, that’s new. Usually when I get insulted it’s the knife ear jab. Fine. We’ll get this Branka for you. Bring her back. Get you on the throne. Then I want troops. This is it, though. I do this and I’m done. You can’t get crowned with Branka, I’ll go bark up the other tree.”

Bhelen held his hands out, placating her, “You get me Branka and you can have whatever you want. Including the Harrowmont estate.”

“I just want my troops and your word you will abide by your treaty, Bhelen. Nothing else.” She spun on her heels and marched to the door, stopping to look back at the dwarf. “You double-cross me and I’ll give your head to Harrowmont on a platter. This is the last little errand I run for you. I’m nobody’s message girl. I’m a Warden. You will give me respect or I will leave you and your city to rot.” 

“You have my word. Get me Branka and you’ll have your troops. No need for violence or savagery.”

Eavan looked at him for a moment longer and strode out the door, her voice whipping back to crack at her companions. “Come on, we have an expedition to plan for.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can find me on Tumblr under Warriormaggie
> 
> I am always open to chatting!


	29. Chapter 29

The mug of ale placed in front of Eavan looked…muddy. She supposed it was because the ale was made of rock and lichen and Maker only knew what else. But this mug looked muddier than the last three she had choked down. The very thought of going back into the Deep Roads had her drinking more than she was used to. More than what was probably advisable before a large expedition. However, the Deep Roads might be improved with a hang-over. Or at the very least, the headache might drown out the darkspawn singing a bit. 

She was just about to reach for the muddy ale when a hand nabbed the mug. She lifted her slightly bleary eyes and saw a dwarf. Red-haired, bearded, and weaving just a bit. Drunk. More drunk than her. And he had her mug. “Hey! Get your own!”

“You were staring at it like it was going to bite you. I saved you.” The dwarf said on a hiccup. He wavered and then plopped down in the seat next to her. She looked around for Alistair, noted him at the bar, and shrugged. He took a deep drink, slammed the mug on the table, and focused on her, “Heard you were a Warden.”

She leaned back in her seat and looked the dwarf up and down, “I am. And you are?”

“Names Oghren. Heard you were looking for Branka.” The way he said the name made Eavan’s ears twitch. 

“You heard correctly. Here to help? To ridicule? To drink my muddy ale?”

“To ask if I can go with you. She’s my wife…was my wife…still my wife. Been looking for somebody, anybody, to brave the Deep Roads to look for her. She’s been gone two years. TWO YEARS! Our only living Paragon and nobody will go looking for her. I know who you’re working for and I don’t give a piss about Bhelen or his desire to be king. I just want to find her.”

Eavan tugged lightly at one ear as she thought. He looked like a drunkard. Red nosed and slurring a bit, guzzling the muddy ale like it was water. But he was in good quality plate mail and was carrying a wicked axe on his back. Smelled, but everything smelled down here. “You willing to go into the Deep Roads, then? With an Elf?”

“You could be a nug in pants for all I care, Warden.” Oghren slammed the mug on the table again and looked up when Alistair appeared behind him. 

“This dwarf bothering you, Eavan?” Alistair took up an aggressive stance behind Oghren, his face frowning.

Eaven waved her hand at Alistair, “No. He’s offering us help. I’ll accept. She’s your wife and you look capable. If sloshed. We leave tomorrow. Any problems with that?”

Oghren squinted at her, “Tomorrow morning? Yeah, I can be there.”

Eavan smiled and held out her hand, “I’m Eavan, Warden Commander and leader of this fine group of people. That’s Alistair, my other Warden and Second in Command.”

Oghren chuckled and took her hand, giving it a hearty shake, “Eh-heh, you’re a tiny thing. Spitfire, eh? Look forward to delving the deeps with you. Thanks for the ale, Commander. I’ll see you in the morning.” He carefully stood, gathered himself, and slowly toddled off. She watched him trip up the stairs, give a loud belch, and then meander from the tavern.

“Well, he’s…”

“Drunk. And smelly. And Branka’s his wife.”

Alistair took the vacant seat and reached for her hand, “You doing ok? You look a little…green.”

“Three mugs of lichen ale and yeah. Feeling a little sick. Think we can just go to the room early? I should probably not go to the Deep Roads too hung-over. Just a little hung-over. To drown out the song.” She laid her head down on the table and sighed, “I don’t want to go back there, Alistair.”

“I don’t want to either, to be honest. It’s…like a tomb. I can feel my death calling for me down there. Does that make sense?”

“Yes. It feels like walking in every Warden’s footsteps. I suppose that should make us feel more at home. This is what Wardens do. I just…” She sat up and pressed his hand to her cheek, “I miss Duncan. I wish he was here. I wish I knew I was doing the right thing. I wish…”

Alistair cupped her cheek, his eyes sad, “I know. I miss him too. So much. What would he say, seeing the two of us about to go into the Deep Roads?”

“Probably tell us to stop whining and goofing off. You’d probably make some smarty-pants comment and I’d make one back at you and he’d roll his eyes. He’d give us terrifying jobs to do. He’d nag us a bit. He’d…” She pressed her cheek harder against Alistair’s hand, “He’d tell me to quit thinking like an elf, like a child. “Eavan, you’re a Warden now,” is what he’d say.” She turned sad eyes to Alistair, “I miss him as much as I miss my father.”

“Let me take you back to our room, Eavan. I need to be with you.” Alistair stood, nodded to their companions, and took her hand. “I hate seeing you like this. You should be…”

“Where I am now. With you. Doing this.” Eavan squeezed his hand. “I just introduced myself as the Warden Commander…”

Alistair snorted a bit, “You are the Warden Commander.”

“Right. The short knife-ear is the Warden Commander of Ferelden. And you’re a pretty pretty princess in a lovely evening dress.” Eavan shot him an amused look.

“Who can dance the Remigold, don’t forget. And it must be a very pretty dress.” Alistair snarked, remember their conversation on the eve of Ostagar. “So I’m a princess now, eh?”

Eavan grinned at him, following him as he led them back to their rooms. “Yeah, my pretty princess.”

He looked around, noting the empty hallway, picked her up and slung her over his shoulder, “I’ll show you who’s princess here…” he said on a laugh, laughing harder when she elbowed him. He ran a hand up her thigh and patted her rear. “Just hang there for a moment.”

“I’m going to murder you,” Eavan groused, reaching down to pinch his rear. “Put me down.”

“Nope,” Alistair clamped his arm over her waist and hummed as he walked to the door of their room. “Not till we’re in the room and you’ve promised to not hurt me.”

“I promise not to hurt you…much…” Eavan pinched him again.

“Keep that up and I’ll have to really punish you. I’ll make you sleep next to the stinky Dwarf the entire time we’re in the Deep Roads.”

Eavan’s laughter echoed down the hallway and was cut off when the door slammed shut.


	30. Chapter 30

Oghren was waiting for Eavan the next morning at the opening to the Deep Roads. She walked up and nodded to the dwarf and then turned to look at her companions. They all stood around her, eyes on her face. She grimaced slightly and pulled out a sheaf of papers. “Sten. These are copies of the maps we have. I have marked on the maps our route. This is just in case. I am taking Alistair, Wynne, and Oghren with me. And Lucky. The rest of you, stay here. Lay low. Get some rest, resupply. If we aren’t back in a month, you can either continue on to the Urn or try to find us.”

The group muttered and Alistair turned to look at them, “I’m not sending her down there without me. Two Wardens have a greater chance of returning than just one. And besides, Eavan already tried to talk me out of it.”

“And he ignored me,” she muttered. She looked at her companions, gave them a nod, turned, and walked into the Deep Roads.

She didn’t look back.

***

The trip to Caradin’s Cross went smoothly – for a Deep Roads trip. The group encountered few darkspawn and fewer critters. The road was broad, empty, and creepily quiet. Eavan battled between the urge to run and the need to move slowly. She couldn’t afford to rush and miss any clues as to Branka’s location. And they found plenty of clues – clues leading to an Ortan Thaig. So they moved on, hoping the Thaig would give them more information.

They advanced slowly. Wynne was responsible for time keeping, stopping the group after twelve hours. They would camp, set watch, try to sleep, eat, and then head out again for another twelve hours. It was tedious.

Worse than the boredom were the whispers. Sinuous and startling in their clarity, the song grew as they traveled farther into the Deep. As the gloom closed around them, the song brightened. She knew Alistair felt it, could hear it, because he would stop suddenly and shake his head, eyes closed and face scrunched. Then he would reach for her hand, sigh, and continue on. It was never-ending. It was maddening. It was beautiful.

The song of the Archdemon surrounded her till she felt like she was nothing more than walking music. A call to the darkspawn.

***

Eavan looked at Alistair and shook her head, running her hands through her hair in disgust. “It’s everywhere. Everywhere. I have spider gook in my hair, in my armor…in my boots…”

Alistair reached forward and plucked a large piece of something off of her head and grimaced, “You were really close to it when it went down.”

“I was underneath it when you hit it hard enough to make the thorax explode,” she clarified with a wrinkle of her nose. “And I don’t think I’ll be getting a bath down here.”

“Ehh…just have a drink, Warden. It’ll make you forget about the spider.” Oghren had sidled up to her and poked her in the side. “That was some fine knife fighting. You attack like a dervish.” He belched in appreciation. “Had been a bit worried about ya. You bein a tiny little thing and all but by the STONE you can fight.”

Eavan gave up on the spider guts and blinked at Oghren, a smile starting to curl up her lips, “Thank you, Oghren.”

He belched again and waved his canteen at her. A putrid, acidic smell wafted up from the opening and she shook her head. He shrugged, “You want a guzzle then, Junior?”

“Are you…are you talking to me?” Alistair gawked at the dwarf.

“Not talking to Old Mother Nug over there,” Oghren waved in Wynne’s direction. Wynne straightened at that and shook her finger at him. “Eh-heh. Now now, we’re not at camp yet.”

Eavan rolled her eyes. Oghren was a bit of Zevran rolled up in lichen ale and dipped in pure grain alcohol. He farted. He belched. He smelled – you could smell him over the Deep Roads. And he told dirty jokes. But he could fight. And he knew how to fight as part of a team. Eavan was willing to overlook the social issues in favor of a dwarf who could charge into a knot of darkspawn and come out with nothing worse than a black eye.

She patted the top of his head, much to his amusement and Alistair’s annoyance, and made her way over to a collection of chests draped with spider webs. A few moments of poking produced a journal that detailed an entire dwarven house’s descent into the deeps. She read a few sentences, her eyes growing big, “Oghren! I’ve found Branka’s journal. The spiders did have it.”

“Eh? Let me see that.” Oghren turned the book around so he could read it. He mumbled to himself and then punched one of the trunks. “By the Stone, no! She’s after the Anvil. And…and there’s directions here.”

“The Anvil?” Eavan watched as Oghren punched another trunk.

“The blighted Anvil of the Void. The creation of the Paragon Caridin. He used it to make Golems. Stone’s Ancestors, she’s done it. She’s found the Anvil.” Oghren’s voice was a mixture of awe and annoyance.

“So we keep going then. We need to find her to get a king crowned. And we need a king crowned so that we get troops to fight the Blight.” Eavan said, her eyes cutting to Alistair. “I just hope she’s ok. This is pretty far into the Deep Roads. What’s that.”

“Dead Trenches.” Said Oghren, his eyes moving over the map. “Owned by the darkspawn.”

Eavan shuddered, the song growing louder at the name of the Deep Trenches. “May they not be there when we show up.”


	31. Chapter 31

The Deep Trenches were living up to their name. They had been skirting the miles wide trench for a while now. The song wasn’t just a song anymore. It was a full-on choir with harmonies and descants and harmonics. It was so vivid, so real, that Eavan half-expected to find themselves confronted by a blight-sickened choir and musicians. It never stopped. It never quieted. And it was filled with the cries of the damned.

It had been hard the first few hours, the song and mind-itch of darkspawn overwhelming her other senses. But gradually, she grew accustomed to the harmonics and shoved them to the back of her mind. Alistair had told her what he knew of the Deep Roads as they walked – told her the Wardens would spend a year or more down here fighting with the dwarves. That Duncan had told him that every step taken here was in memory to a fallen Warden. Every breath was a breath for them. Every fallen darkspawn was done in their name.

When she thought about it that way, when she approached the ‘spawn from a more personal perspective, she was able to take the song and use it to strengthen her resolve. She could hear it. They were close. These were the things Wardens exist to fight, the very beings that she should view as an enemy. And it became so simply. She was a Warden. They were darkspawn. They would fight. One would die. And it would be them. And she would live to come back and do it again.

The rest of her group slogged behind her and Alistair, ignorant of the beautiful malice being sung in the trench. She wasn’t sure what was worse – the terribly glorious song or the stench. The stench was atrocious. So many bodies packed in tightly. So much rot and disease and decay perfuming the stagnant air. It was hot. It was stifling. It was disgusting.

They stopped to break, to eat some rations quietly in a nook, when the song started to swell louder. The melodies shifted and crashed together. Suddenly, above the general din of darkspawn taint there sang a higher note, a purer one. It held the high tone, breaking the melody. Eavan and Alsitair lifted their heads as one, pulled to the edge of the trench almost without realizing it. Called by HER.

A sudden updraft of heat and noxious fumes hit them and then the dragon soared into the air. Larger than their imaginations could conjure, more terrible than any monster faced, the voice of the Blight shot out of the trench, looped, and landed on a ledge. It opened its mouth and a terrible roar and fire burst forth to bathe the darkspawn below. The pure note held, shivered, and exploded into a scream that made Eavan and Alistair grip their heads and scream in concert. Their noise was swallowed by the horde below them, their taint melding with the taint of the darkspawn.

The Archdemon screamed again and Eavan swooned at the sound. She saw Alistair wobble near the lip of the trench and reached out to him, tugged him back so that they both fell in a heap on the floor. Her body seized with another scream. She felt herself convulsing, felt Wynne’s hand gripping her head, saw Wynne’s lips move. But there was no noise. No sound save for the terrible presence of the Archdemon. No noise but the song SHE wove.

With a final bellow, a command that Eavan clearly heard in her mind, the Archdemon flew off. The horde, as one, followed.

“What was that?” Wynne’s voice was a tinny noise in Eavan’s ear, a buzzing gnat that worried at her.

She struggled to find her tongue, to remember speech. She finally cleared her throat and touched Wynne’s hand, “The Archdemon. This is a True Blight. There can be no doubt of that now. And she Calls. Oh how SHE Calls to them.” Eavan closed her eyes, sobs wracking her. “Maker take me now. The music is gone and I miss it.” She turned and curled into a ball, wailing out in pain as she came back to herself.

Alistair’s touch grounded her and soothed her. He had curled around her as best as he could, his armor digging in to her back. She heard him murmuring against her hair, soft words of love. She felt his tears sliding down her neck, his body trembling behind her. She let herself relax and at her soft exhale, he sighed as well. “That was…”

“I never want to go through that again. I’ll kill darkspawn all day but I never want to hear that voice in my head again. How? Alistair, how will we kill that? THAT? She’s…she’s…”

“Timeless. Powerful.” Alistair murmured. “We do it together. We’ll stop this together, you’ll see. You’ll lead us there. I know it.”

Eavan shuddered, “I can’t…against that. What am I compared to that?”

“You are the Commander of the Grey,” Wynne’s voice was pert, non-nonsense. “And you can do this. You can do this because I believe in you. Alistair believes you in. We all do.”

Oghren nodded, “I’ve just met you and you’ve done more for me than any dwarf in Orzammar.” He put his axe down and pulled out his canteen, pondered it. “Can’t say I’m exactly wanting to see the surface but…if you need allies…you can count on me. Nobody would listen to drunk old Oghren. But you did. And we’re on the right track. I can feel it.”

“I hope so,” Eavan said, sincerity in her voice, “I don’t think I can do this again. At least not right away. And maybe not without some booze.”

“Here here,” Oghren said as he took a long guzzle from his canteen.

***

  
There was a bridge across the Trench, guarded by dwarves – a group of Legion of the Dead. Eavan had been both impressed and horrified by their burden. Already declared dead by dwarven society, the Legion of the Dead fought the darkspawn with a verve and passion that was impressive. Eavan had spoken with their leader, told him why they were down in the deeps, and had watched him shake his head.

“Always something with the Assembly. We’d love to help but without formal orders, we can’t.” The dwarf tugged on his beard and gave Eavan an appraising look. “You look sturdy…for an elf…”

“You look pretty competent…for a dwarf.” Eavan responded, her eyes narrowing.

The dwarf had squinted and then burst into laughter, “Aye, you’ve been spending time with the Assembly.” He had slapped her on the back and then resumed his post.

Eavan had turned to the bridge, eyed the group of darkspawn that seemed to sit in the middle of the bridge, and had pulled out her daggers. “We go across or we die here. There is no other way across, our maps lead us here. Stay behind Alistair and I. Do not get the blood on your face. We will clear the way.”

Alistair pulled his sword and shield and nodded at Eavan. “We go across or we die.”

Eavan glanced back at the dwarves, all of them watching her and Alistair like they had gone mad. “Let’s show the Legion of the Dead what Wardens can do, Alistair. Wynne? Keep us healed. Oghren, we’ll draw them here. As soon as there’s a good-sized knot, go ahead and just start hitting things. Lucky, for the love the Maker, only knock them off. No biting. I have no salve to heal you.” Wynne and Oghren nodded. Lucky barked. Eavan clenched her daggers and nodded at Alistair.

He gave a yell and charged.

***

  
The bridge had been guarded by what felt like never-ending waves of darkspawn. Eavan had breathed in, said a prayer to Duncan, and let her anger flow out of her and through her daggers. She had spun into battle, a dervish fueled by hate for Bhelen who had sent her here, for Loghain for quitting the field at Ostagar, for the Archdemon and the Blight, and under all of it – hatred for the Shems who had dared touch her cousin. Every darkspawn wore the face of Vaughan. Ever cut of her dagger was to save her cousin. She fought like a possessed woman, the only sounds she made were screams and grunts as she pressed slowly forward through the throng of darkspawn.

The other side had held two ogres and a grouping of archers. Wynne had taken care of the archers. She had teamed with Lucky to bring down an ogre. Alistair and Oghren had decimated the other one. She had looked up from her kill, her daggers puncturing the beast’s eye, to see Alistair leap through the air and bury his sword in his ogre’s neck. A yell and he dragged it through the cartilage and bone, the wet crunch of a broken neck following the boom as the ogre fell backward and catapulted him through the air. He landed hard, skidded, rolled, and got up laughing. Oghren ran and they hugged, the battle high turning them into blood brothers. Eavan just shook her head and watched Lucky do a dog-dance of joy at surviving.

“By the Stone,” she heard behind her. She turned to find the group of the Legion of the Dead gathered at the bridge. “That was amazing.”

Eavan pulled her daggers out of the ogre’s eye and wiped them on her leathers, sliding them into her back-sheaths. “I was very angry. It was pretty cathartic.”

“Remind me to never make you angry. You Wardens fight like demons, no joke. I didn’t think a little thing like you would make it but…Stone’s Breath…the way you cut through the ‘spawn. It was inspiring.”

Eavan walked to him, her face blood-splattered and her armor covered in gore. She looked at the dwarf, saw the respect in his eyes, and held out her hand, “I’m Eavan, Warden Commander, and I’d be honored to fight at your side.”

“Kardol. And it would be a great honor to fight with you, Warden.”

Eavan nodded, “Maybe when we’ve sorted out the King issue, we can formalize that.”

Kardol looked at Eavan, “You get a King on the throne of Orzammar and we’ll talk, Warden. Now, we have work to do. Stone’s Blessings upon you.”

“And you,” Eavan nodded. “Alright! We’re across. Let’s find Branka and get our asses back to Orzammar. I need a bath.”

Her group laughed and headed off toward an opening in the wall, high spirits at having survived filling them with euphoria. What lay ahead, they didn’t know. But what they were leaving was one of the worst things they had ever seen in the Deep Roads.


	32. Chapter 32

Eavan made a mental note to never again ask what could possibly be worse than fighting waves of darkspawn and ogres. She stared at the corpse of the broodmother and fought to not vomit. A twisted, mutated, tainted female dwarf with multiple limbs and breasts, the broodmother was the ultimate in female warden nightmares. It was scarier than the archdemon – if just because of the possibilities of being turned into one. She wasn’t sure what disturbed her more: the fact that one of Branka’s dwarves had told them Branka had left them to die – to be turned into this…this…abomination, or that this was what the darkspawn did to women.

Her mind rebelled at the thought, at the overall nightmare of the entire situation. Was this what she had to look forward to on her Calling? Would she turn into this…thing? A broodmother to spit out new darkspawn? She didn’t think it could happen, hoped it couldn’t happen. Maybe the taint would actually prevent it. Or maybe…maybe…

“Alistair?” her voice was whisper quiet in the gloom of the cave. He turned to look at her, his face white with the strain of the fight and the entire situation. “Promise me something?”

“What?” He moved to her and took her hand, his eyes noting her equally pale complexion. “What, love?”

“Promise me that when it’s time for our Calling that you won’t let them…do this to me.” She gestured to the dead broodmother. “Promise me you’ll kill me yourself if it comes to it.”

“I…” he hesitated, his eyes shimmering with tears. “I promise.” He sucked it in, swallowed the sudden wash of grief at the thought of his Eavan turned into…this. Without warning, he pulled her to him and crushed her against his chest. “Don’t ever leave me, Eavan. I promise to not let them take you. But promise me…promise me you’ll stay. You’ll be with me. I…can’t…”

Eavan sighed against him, “I promise, Alistair. We’ll do it together, our Calling. And even if it happens earlier for one of us, we won’t come down here alone.”

He exhaled and let her go, giving her a slightly sheepish smile, “Sorry for crushing you.”

“Oh,” She straightened her helmet and gave him a tentative smile, “It’s ok. Now, I think we’re close. Very close. We can get this done and start heading back. I…I want nothing more than a few uninterrupted nights with you.”

“Oh really?” Alistair perked up at that, “Tell me more? Does it involve cheese?”

“Maker’s Breath,” Eavan said on a laugh, “Yes, wheels of the stuff. And a big bathtub filled with bubbles. And ale. And clean sheets.”

“Oh…well then…if there’s all that, then by all means, let’s go find this Branka and get all this taken care of.” He grinned and turned to wave at Oghren and Wynne. “Sooner we finish this, sooner we can all have a drink.”

Oghren hiccupped and shook his fist, “Here, here! And you’re buying!”

“Wait…what?” Alistair sputtered, watching as Oghren winked at him and followed after Eavan. “What? No!” He grumbled and headed with everybody else down the side tunnel.

***

  
Branka. The only living Paragon in Orzammar. Master Smith. Inventor. Dreamer.

Dead.

Eavan stood in front of the corpse, her daggers covered in blood, her body covered in bruises and worse, and just looked at the woman she had been sent to find. A woman who had given her entire house over for an obsession – the Anvil of the Void. An item of power, created by another Paragon, capable of creating the dwarves’ most respected creation (besides their lyrium output) – golems.

There was no way Eavan could let Branka have the Anvil. Not after she found out how golems were made. Barbaric, was all she could think. To take a living being and encase them in stone or metal and then pour molten lyrium into the casing. To hear their screams as the golem was forged. She couldn’t allow something so…so…powerful to be given to Bhelen. She wasn’t sure there was a dwarf alive who deserved that level of power.

And she had told Branka that, to her face. And when that hadn’t been enough, she had hammered it home by killing her. An act that left her feeling empty. She had come all this way to find this woman and she lay dead at Eavan’s feet by Eavan’s own hand. It was a tragedy. How would she solve the problem of the Dwarven throne now? How could she get the Assembly to listen to her?

The sound of metal on stone made her turn. Caridin had moved to stand next to her. The oldest Paragon and creator of the Anvil, he had been made a golem by his own apprentices after he objected to the use of casteless and criminals to create golems. He looked down at her and then at Branka.

“She would have returned the Anvil to Orzammar. And then a new army of golems would have been created.” His voice was sad, quiet. “Death was a better option.”

“I know.” Eavan sighed. “But now what do I do? I need a Paragon’s blessing for Bhelen to be crowned. And I just killed the Paragon.”

“I’m still a Paragon. I will forge you a gift. Something with my House’s seal. You can take this with you and give it to the Assembly. I do not care who you put on the throne. Just promise me that once I make this, you will destroy the Anvil.” Caridin turned to look at the Anvil, tension vibrating in his voice.

Eavan reached out and touched him. His metal body was cold. Lifeless. But his eyes burned with such agony that she nodded. “I will promise this. Give me an item to break the deadlock and the Anvil will be no more.”

Caridin nodded and started moving towards the Anvil. She watched him go, sadness overwhelming her. This entire expedition had been a colossal waste. She only hoped the Assembly would accept whatever it was Caridin made. Otherwise, she was going to fill Orzammar with blood. At least the blood of Bhelen.

Her thoughts were interrupted by Oghren. The dwarf had walked to stand next to her, his eyes on Branka. He sighed, a mournful sound. “She should have listened to us.”

“I’m sorry, Oghren. Sorry I couldn’t save her. Sorry I killed her.” Eavan turned to him. “I am.”

“Don’t be. She made her decision. Years ago, she made it. Left me to rot in Orzammar and then dragged our House down here where she fed them to the darkspawn. And for what? An Anvil that turns living Dwarves into golems? She could have stayed in Orzammar and really made a difference. Instead, she came down here and wasted the lives of our entire House.” He coughed and cleared his throat. “I loved her, you know? And her leaving me, well. I haven’t had a moment of honor since then. I’ve forgotten what it means to have it. To be a warrior. I’m a drunk and a fool.” He slumped. “All these years and she never even…missed me…”

“Oghren…” Eavan wrapped an arm around his shoulders. She looked at him and didn’t see a drunk or a used-up warrior, she saw a man grieving. And she understood grief. “You aren’t honorless. You fought down here with as much courage as the rest of us. You stood with us. You encouraged us. And if the dwarves are too stupid to appreciate you, well, I’m not. And when we leave, you are welcome to come with us.”

“To the surface?” He sounded intrigued. “You want me to become a surface?”

“Is there anything in Orzammar for you?” Eavan wrapped her other arm around him and gave him a squeeze. There was something not-quite-as scary about the dwarf. He was a crazy fighter, very much a berserker on the field. But he was also funny and crude…and smelly…and he somehow made Eavan want to take care of him. Perhaps it was the twinkle in his eyes when he wound Alistair up or teased Wynne. Or perhaps it was the gruff respect he paid her. Either way, Eavan hugged him and hoped he’d come with them. “Plus, I am going up against the Archdemon. What could be more courageous for a dwarf?”

“Eh-heh, you make a fine point, Warden. Plus, you’re awfully cute.” He squeezed her back, his arms crushing her a bit. “Think you’re man will mind that you’re hugging me?” His voice had gone smarmy.

Eavan burst into laughter at that, giving him one more squeeze before pulling away, “Oh you flirt. How will I live with you and Zev?”

“Who’s this Zev?” Oghren’s ears were flushed and he laughed with her, “Sounds…girly.”

Alistair heard that and snorted, “He’s an assassin Eavan picked up. She just…gathers people up.”

“Oh stop,” Eavan stuck her tongue out at Alistair, “He’s perfectly lovely. And a dear friend.”

“And a flirt. You’re mine, remember? Mine. I’m not sharing you with any dwarves or elves.” He shoved Oghren’s shoulder and gathered Eavan to him. “Go flirt with Wynne.”

Oghren smacked Alistair’s shoulder, “Good for you, kid. Sticking up for yourself. Laying claim. Good on you. I knew underneath all that whining was a man.”

“What?! I am a man!” Alistair’s face had screwed up into astonishment. “Eavan! Tell him!”

“I’m not getting involved in this. I think Caridin’s done. You two solve your own problems. I’ve got enough on my plate.” Eavan kissed Alistair’s cheek and went to meet with Caridin.

The golem handed her a crown. Forged from metals found only in the cavern, it was heavy, solemn, and beautifully forged. Along the inside band he had inscribed his house’s name and the inscription “This crown is destined to be given to one of the two candidates for the throne of Orzammar.” Eavan looked at the crown and then back to Caridin, “Thank you. This is beautiful. Thank you.”

“Now…please. Destroy the Anvil.” Caridin backed away and pointed to the Anvil. Eavan nodded and handed the crown to Alistair.

“I will.” She moved across the bridge to the where the Anvil sat. Surrounded by lava, the heat washing over her nearly unbearable, the Anvil sat on a small island of stone. Several hammers lay around it, all large, all obviously well-used. She chose one at random, hefted it, and then stared at the anvil. She let her anger at this entire situation – the dwarves, Branka, Caridin, Oghren’s loss – let it all gather to her and then swung the hammer at the anvil.

At the touch of the hammer, the anvil shivered. An odd note rang out, off-key and jarring. For a moment, she thought perhaps she’d have to hit it again, and then it cracked and broke into two pieces.

Caridin gave a sigh of relief. “Thank you. Thank you for ending this nightmare. And now…I too must go. I have been here too long. Too long in the deeps. Too long in the dark. My time is over, thanks your help Warden.” He lifted his hand to Eavan and took a step towards the lava, “Stone’s Blessings, Warden.”

“No!” Eavan screamed as she took a step forward. But Caridin had already moved, had stepped into space. For a moment, he seemed to float on the surface of the lava flow. And then…he was gone.


	33. Chapter 33

The sunlight was glorious, beautiful and bright. And the fresh air! Eavan didn’t think she had ever inhaled such pure, wonderful air before. She stood on the steps outside of Orzammar and just inhaled the air, stared at the sky, and gave a little prayer of thanks that they were no longer under all that stone. She glanced behind her and saw that her companions were pretty much doing the same, their noses pointed up towards the sky and blissful smiles curling their lips.

Except for Oghren. He was eyeing the sky with great suspicion and griping his axe tightly.

She had gained more than just the support of the dwarves. Oghren had decided to join her. There was nothing left in Orazmmar for him, he had told her. And he really didn’t want to stick around and see how Bhelen screwed everything up. 

She didn’t blame him. She had brought back the crown given to her by Caridin, and in front of the dwarven Assembly, had named Bhelen as king. His first act had been to cut down Harrowmont. Deep down, Eavan understood why. He needed to secure his power, but still, it had been a blood bath. When she left the Assembly, it was with his promise of help.

She had told him that she had put him on the throne, and she would take him off if he ever double-crossed her. Bhelen had laughed at that and told her she played the game very well. It was a compliment that had had her growling and stomping from the assembly chambers.

With the Dwarven Compact renewed, Eavan saw no reason to stay. They had packed up and left right then. Nobody was interested in celebrating. Alistair and Eavan, especially, were ready to be far from the dwarven city, far from the entrance to the Deep Roads. 

Now they all stood outside and Eavan watched Oghren shake under all that sky. “You going to be ok?” She kept her voice quiet to give him privacy.

“Ehh…it’s just so big. There’s no…no ceiling! How do you keep from just floating away?” Oghren ducked his head a bit and then shook his axe. “And all this…this…air. It’s making me light headed.”

“I promise you, I won’t let you float away into the clouds.” Eavan said, laying her hand on his arm. “I’m glad you joined us, though. I can use another fighter who’s used to darkspawn.”

Oghren shuffled, “Ah hell, Warden. You’ll make me blush.”

“I’m still so sorry about Branka.” Eavan watched him shuffle and then slid an arm around his shoulder. She leaned against him, her eyes on the path that led down the mountain. “I would understand if you were mad at me.”

“Mad at you? Listen to you. Branka made her choice and it was the wrong one. No, you have nothing to apologize for. Except for maybe sweet talking me into coming up here to the surface.” Oghren allowed himself a moment to enjoy the affection before shuffling to the side. “Anything good about being up here?”

“The food is better. And so is the ale. And there’s wine and whiskey.” Eavan pondered. “Mm, and plenty of darkspawn to fight. And big Shem who need to be knocked down a few pegs.”

“And women?” Oghren was looking at her with great interest.

“Er…yes. And women.” She eyed him and shook her head. “Not me. I’m with Alistair.”

“Eh-heh. Yeah. You ever decide you want a real man…” Oghren started with a leer.

“She will let me know, isn’t that correct my dove?” Zevran said with a smile as he drifted to them. Eavan snorted in amusement at Zev and he gave her a wink, “Ah, and she knows that I am always here to provide her with…shall we say…advice and suggestions?”

“Zev,” she said with a little laugh, “You’re making me blush.”

“The color looks good on you, my dove. You have been too pale, too somber since we went into that cave of a city. And then you left me to wait for you.” He got quiet at that, a glimmer of fear in the back of his eyes, “And I worried.”

“Oh Zev. You wouldn’t have wanted to come. It was…” Eavan pursed her lips. “If I have to go back, I will bring you.” She looked up at Alistair, saw him smile and smiled back. “I don’t want to see you tainted, Zev.”

“Ah, amore mio, you worry for me.” The words sounded teasing, but his face was surprised, pleased, and a little shy. “I shall have you as my own in no time.”

Eavan laughed and wrapped her arms around his waist, the smell of his leather settling her, “Ah Zev, you are my dearest friend and I do love you already. But my heart, it belongs to Alistair.”

Zev chuckled and squeezed her back, “I suppose I must be content with that, then. It is more than I have ever had.” He settled his cheek against her hair, “I missed you, my dove. In the dark, I missed you. Do not leave me behind again.”

“I won’t, Zev.” She gave him another squeeze and sighed. “I suppose we should head down the mountain. I think I remember a cave part-way down that we can sleep in.” She pressed a quick kiss to Zev’s cheek and stepped back and met Alistair’s eyes. He nodded and held out his hand. “Shall we go? I don’t relish the thought of sleeping in a snow bank.”

“Where you lead, we will follow, my dove.” Zev said, nodding to their companions. “Now, Mr. Dwarf, do tell me all about yourself. And especially about the dwarven ladies. The next time I am here in Orzammar, I wish to pursue these lovely jewels.” He linked his arm with Oghren, gave Eavan a big grin, and started moving them both down the mountain path. Wynne walked past her, patted her cheek, shook her head at Zev, and followed the elf and dwarf. Sten and Lucky followed Wynne, Sten giving her a pleased nod. Morrigan just rolled her eyes and stalked off after Lucky. Eavan grinned up at Alistair.

“We have a crowd now.” Her voice was filled with amusement. “All of them characters.”

“All of them following you because they love you.” Alistair squeezed her hand. “None more than me, by the way.”

“Mm. You know, when we are able to put up our tents again, well…” Eavan let her voice trail off and started following the group down the path, Alistair at her side. “It’s been a while since we’ve been alone together.”

“Maker, just put us away from the dwarf. He snores.” Alistair said on a laugh. He sobered after a moment, “Eavan?”

“Yes, Alistair?” She glanced at him.

“Do you really love Zevran?” He bit his lip and tried to look nonchalant.

Eavan smiled slightly, “I do. He’s family now. But I don’t love him like I love you, Alistair. I never will.”

“Oh…well then…” His voice was relieved, “Think we have any cheese for dinner?”

“You and cheese…I think so.” Eavan said on a laugh. They trailed behind the group, talking of nothing, just grateful to be outside and together.


	34. Chapter 34

The days blurred together as the group moved down the mountains from Orzammar and headed South towards the location shown on their map – the supposed location of the Urn of Sacred Ashes. Each day was a minor adventure as Orghren saw something new, something fantastical, something a Dwarf who had dwelt their entire life under ground had never seen.

Zevran had taken to walking with him, pointing out interesting sites and basking in Oghren's amazement. Eavan asked him one night at camp why he so enjoyed talking with Oghren and he said, surprisingly enough, that the dwarf reminded him of himself. “My dove, Oghren is a warrior - of that I have no doubt. A man of his world. A man who has found that his world no longer holds the joys it once did. I, too, know that feeling. I once craved the excitement of the Crows, the joy of the job. The perks were secondary. I loved knowing I was good at what I did. I may not have had a choice in becoming a Crow, but I had a choice as to what kind of Crow I was. And then, well, I met you and realized that perhaps, just perhaps, I could have a better life.”

Eavan had looked at him and then at Oghren, and frowned. “He's still mourning his wife. She left him, Zev. Took their whole house and just...killed them on some mad quest. He feels like his honor is gone. That he's not worthy to be a Warrior.”

“Then show him he is worthy, my dove, as you have shown me.” Zev patted her hand and rested his head against her shoulder. “You are quite certain that you are happy with that lug of a man?”

“Alistair?” Eavan's voice was filled with amusement. “I am very certain, Zev. We would...the two of us...would not be a good pair. You know it. Too much there. Too much...pain.”

“I could learn...” Zev started with uncharacteristic straightforwardness. “For you, I would do anything. Be anything.”

“I want you to be yourself, Zev. Nobody else. I love you dearly. You are...you are so close to me that you could be blood family. But I love Alistair. He gives me peace. Joy. Laughter.” Eavan wrapped her arm around Zevran. “Does it matter? Will you leave me over this?”

“Leave you? Never. Even if I must go to handle the Crows, I will come back to you. Always back to you, Eavan. I may love other people, but you will always be my dove. Always.” He smiled, “Now, we must see if we can find a nice dwarven lass for our stout friend. I fear that he shall...ah...upset Wynne enough to make her do something drastic.”

Eavan looked at Wynne and chuckled, “I think Wynne can handle herself, Zev.”

“I would rather handle Wynne.” Zev said, poking Eavan's side. “But perhaps you are correct. Will you bring me with you to seek the Urn?”

“I shall bring all of us, Zev. All of us. I won't leave you behind again. I swear.”

Zevran just gave a happy hum and smiled up at Alistair as the bigger man sat down next to Eavan. “You know, my dove. We could always try...a fun adventure. The three of us some night? In your tent?”

Alistair's ears turned red and he started sputtering, “I...don't...what? What are you implying? Join us? In our tent? For...that?”

Eavan covered her mouth and tried not to laugh as Alistair bodily moved her onto his lap. Zevran watched him with wide, innocent eyes, “Ah, but my dear Alistair. We do not have to share my dove. Eavan and I could share you, yes? You are so very manly and handsome. Certainly you wouldn't mind two lithe elves slithering over you?” He leaned close to Alistair's ear and whispered “Or in you...”

Alistair jerked back and nearly dropped Eavan, much to Zev's amusement. Eavan glanced up and saw how mottled Alistair had become, the man's mouth opening and closing with no noise issuing forth. “You broke him, Zev. Quit it. So naughty.” Eavan leaned over and tweaked one of Zev's ears. “Go on and go tease Wynne. Or Leliana. Shoo.”

Zev stood and gave her a bow, “As you bid, my dove. Enjoy your evening.” He waggled his eyebrows at her and moved towards Wynne, “My dearest Wynne. Have I told you how ravishing you look this evening?”

Eavan chuckled as Wynne rolled her eyes and blushed a bit. She had a sneaking suspicion the older woman enjoyed Zevran's rather outrageous flirting – which was obviously why Zev hadn't found himself with a stomach ailment. And Zev obviously knew it because he was kneeling before Wynne and pledging himself to her everlasting pleasure. Eavan squeaked when Alistair stood, lifting her up and over his shoulder, “Alistair! Put me down!”

“Nope. Not with that...letch...running about unchecked. I'm still blushing from what he suggested. No, we are going to our tent. Just the two of us.” He patted her bottom, much to her amusement and embarrassment, and set off for their tent. “You're mine. Not his. And definitely not for sharing.”

“Mm...right. No distractingly handsome elves joining us in our tent.” Eavan said, squealing when he pinched her. “Why would I want him in our tent? I have you there.”

“Flattery, my love, will get you everything.” He slid her down and gently pushed her into the tent. “Especially a good snuggle with me.”


End file.
